


The Weather Outside

by Natashasolten



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natashasolten/pseuds/Natashasolten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vinnie and Sonny spend one night together, after which Vinnie takes himself off the Steelgrave case much to Frank's confusion, and disappears from Sonny's life altogether.  Bereft and depressed, both men try to get on with their respective lives, but it isn't quite that easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weather Outside

**Author's Note:**

> The songs quoted in this story include “Everybody Knows” by Leonard Cohen and “Let It Snow” by Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne. The sequel to this novella is called "We Keep Each Other Alive" and I promise to post it shortly.

THE WEATHER OUTSIDE

 

“O my accomplice and my thought...”

\-- Yves Bonnefoy

 

Vinnie had, for some time, noticed the closeness between him and Sonny growing. It was interesting for him to note that their relationship had become so much like brothers as well as best friends. They teased each other easily. They laughed at all the same jokes. They had the same tastes in art, movies, food. Vinnie was not pretending when he laughed with Sonny, when they would pal around to movies or restaurants, when the rapport between them would intensify. It was all natural and very very real. This was the other side of Sonny, which was just as fiery and compelling, but in different ways from the mobster Sonny. When Vinnie was with that more fun side of Sonny, he even found himself forgetting that this guy was a cutthroat murderer. And when he forgot, and then remembered again, he felt a slight shock.

The Quantico training had warned students of this. It could happen, forgetting for periods of time that you really weren’t who you were pretending to be, forgetting that the target was the bad guy, and when it did happen students were told that it was a warning sign that perspective was blurring. The cure: a short vacation, or if that could not be had, an intentional pulling back from the personal aspects of the case. Your field supervisor was trained to help with this predicament, and that was why he had to be informed of every single detail going on at all times. The moment you started hiding stuff from your handler, including your own feelings about the case, was a dangerous moment. It could not be emphasized enough that the life of the agent and those around him could be at even more peril once he consciously started to omit important details from his reports.

Vinnie was satisfied with his progress on the case, however, even proud. And he was forthcoming with Frank. Frank knew how close he and Sonny were becoming. Vinnie told him it was easy to be with Sonny, and that he was okay about it. But Frank was worried. “This isn’t going to end well for Sonny, you know, and you have to be prepared.”

When Frank said that, Vinnie felt a twinge of pain in his chest, but he brushed it off. It was hard not to think, especially when he was with Frank, that Sonny deserved whatever was coming. Sonny had free will. He had made his bed. Eventually he would have to lie in it. When he was with Frank, it was all very clear. And he felt that the end justified the means no matter how many ways you looked at it.

But when he walked away from Frank, when Frank wasn’t there, he began to doubt. The end justifying the means was exactly the way Sonny operated. And the reason they were after Sonny and his empire was because the means were all wrong. In this case, the definition of wrong was criminal. Sonny’s means were criminal. When Vinnie turned that mirror onto himself, he saw his own means were not so clearly right and pure. His means involved subterfuge, lying, hurting others to fit in and even killing in self-defense. To get to the desired end of the job, Vinnie became dishonest, ruthless, cold-hearted, and even violent. To deal with this, he kept reminding himself it was all for the betterment of society. He was on the side of good. He would remind himself he was really and truly, deep inside, a good man. Could the same be said of Sonny?

He felt strong enough to handle his doubts, but there were nights he did not sleep quite as soundly as he had at first, and nights when dreams would not leave him in peace. Dreams that involved Sonny either trying to kill him or Sonny as the victim, dead by Vinnie’s own hand.

Strangely, his restlessness and sleeplessness led to Vinnie allowing himself to spend even more time with Sonny, especially in the evenings. He sure enjoyed it a lot more than trying to sleep in the bed in the fancy suite that had still never come to feel like his.

When they weren’t restless enough to go out on the town, they often stayed in and watched movies on Sonny’s big screen TV. Sonny had recently allowed Vinnie free reign in his penthouse on the top floor of the Royal Diamond. It was yet another unique gift from Sonny’s purely generous heart, because Sonny did not allow anyone other than on-duty guards or cleaning personnel on that top floor. Once in awhile Sonny might take a girl up there, but that was it. Now Vinnie was not only made welcome there, he was encouraged to hang out whenever he liked.

Tonight they’d been drinking heavily, sunk low on Sonny’s ultra comfortable white leather couch, and had just finished watching Sonny’s bootleg of “Die Hard.” The movie was still in the theatres, having premiered in July, but Sonny, of course, had a VHS of it already. It was amusing to watch Sonny go back and forth, rooting for the villains, then rooting for the cop. Sonny rooting for the cop? It made Vinnie almost giddy with laughter. Often when they got drunk together, they would spend a lot of time just laughing, or belting out their favorite songs. It was cathartic for both of them, almost addictive. Everything was funny when they were drunk, and the movie was a good drinking movie with lots of stuff to laugh at, from the way Bruce Willis said, “Yippie ki yay, muther-fucker,” to them drunkenly singing, with the closing credits, “The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful….”

For two whole hours, Vinnie had forgotten again. The OCB did not exist. And Sonny was just the kid next door his mom gave him permission to play with. Some days, he really loved his job.

But when he thought that, it was accompanied by a sobering jolt. He stopped laughing abruptly and started to rub his eyes. When he stopped laughing, Sonny stopped laughing. And the rapport between them wavered. Sonny noticed.

“You’re not gonna puke on my couch, are you?” he asked off-handedly.

Vinnie shook his head and the room shook with it. “I’m okay, just tired.”

“You can sleep here if you want,” Sonny offered casually.

“Yeah, well your couch is awfully comfortable.”

“Or you could use my bed. I don’t care. It’s huge. You could get lost in it.” Sonny made the offer the way a kid might who’s asking for his best friend to spend the night.

Vinnie was drunk enough that that sounded good. A part of him thought, Odd, but good. He liked the idea of not sleeping alone. Maybe the dreams would stay at bay if he wasn’t alone in the dark, if the person he was dreaming of killing was alive and breathing nearby.

So he took Sonny up on the offer and true to his word Sonny showed him the way to enveloping white satin sheets, and a mattress like a cloud. He fell into a kind of stupified coma, the good kind where you feel high and peaceful, where sleep can find you and it’s not a nasty thing with black shadows pointing guns or a view of mischievous brown eyes lifeless and dead.

It was the middle of the night when Vinnie abruptly awoke. He did not remember any dream, he was just awake, that was it. The hall light was on. Sonny, the ever polite host, had probably made sure to leave a little light so Vinnie would not be lost if he had to get up for any reason.

The room was peaceful and golden. There were darker shadows surrounding the windows which were covered by drawn, gray shades. The night was quiet, although he could hear a deep measured breathing on the other side of the bed.

He glanced at Sonny’s L.E.D. alarm clock and saw it was almost 2 A.M. Then he glanced in the direction of the breathing and saw Sonny, lying on his side, one pillow under his head at an angle. His dark brown bangs, clumps of which he usually combed to the side or straight back, feathered his eyebrows. One arm was under the pillow as if supporting his head, and the other was curved up against his chest. His hand was curled into a loose fist on the edge of the pillow just inches from his chin. As he slept, breathing easily through his nose, his mouth was pressed into a childish pout. He looked about three years old, and Vinnie almost laughed.

Sonny still wore his white shirt from work, the sleeves rolled up, as did Vinnie. He didn’t know if Sonny still had his pants on, but Vinnie realized he himself did and he also thought that was funny, being in Sonny’s bed and still dressed in work clothes.

He lay on his side for a long time just watching Sonny sleep. He thought about how young Sonny was to be in charge of so much. The mobster stereotype seemed to linger on older fat guys who cooked pasta all the time and gave chilling orders to men playing cards in the godfather’s kitchen to whack anybody who might whack them first. Sonny was so far from that stereotype, it was like comparing a straight businessman to a junkie. And Sonny was, for the most part, merely a businessman. Sometimes his business involved negotiation at the barrel end of a gun. Sometimes it involved illegal payoffs. Sometimes it involved making people understand, with a punch to the gut, that payment needed to be made, and made on time. Anyone who tried to cheat him was treated accordingly. Sonny was patient, but only so far. When he was pissed, the tyrant was released. Then all Hell might break loose. You’d better hold onto your black hat.

But when things are going all right, Vinnie thought, look at him. The angel holds darkness at bay… for the moment.

He realized his thoughts were becoming strange, and decided he was still somewhat drunk. But he couldn’t stop looking at him. And he wondered, Could I kill that? That sleeping boy? This guy who’s just using anything within his means to keep his business and himself afloat?

It was also odd to see Sonny so still. He was always in motion, always humming, or drumming his fingers, or bouncing his knees. He never stopped doing things. Even his eyes reflected the constantly burning fire within, shifting and changing like a tide coming in, going out, and so observant. It seemed Sonny never missed a thing.

Just as he had that thought about eyes, Sonny’s opened. Dark brown gazed straight at him, where Vinnie lay watching him from across the center of the white bed, his own head propped on a doubled up pillow.

The brown eyes blinked, stared. They did not waver. They just gazed. And Vinnie gazed back.

Finally, Sonny spoke sleepily. “What is it?”

“Did you know you sleep with your hands curled into fists and your mouth in a pout?” Vinnie asked suddenly.

Sonny didn’t move, he just blinked. “You were watching me sleep?”

“You didn’t look like you,” Vinnie answered.

“Who did I look like?”

“I don’t know,” Vinnie said honestly. “Maybe some boy I used to know in the neighborhood.”

“You were dreaming. I’m still me,” Sonny said, voice low and hushed, slowly raising himself up on his elbow. Then Sonny gave him a look, kind of sidelong, and Vinnie had a moment where he forgot who he was again, and he was staring at his friend who looked so open, fresh from sleep, his bangs curling at his brow. That look was furtive, almost shy, but it was like the sun shining on him. And he saw instantly that Sonny was the honest one here of the two of them, the true one, the pure one, who was just himself holding nothing back, and who had given Vinnie everything he could think to give him, and was still giving him more every day.

It was Vinnie who was the hidden one, dark, otherworldly. He was the deceiver, the devil, the masked one willingly taking the treats offered, as if it were Halloween, then yelling, “Trick!”

He felt a shivering in his stomach, and the back of his throat tensed. A desperate, anguished thought came. How can I save him? And with it came a strange, compelling longing. How do I fix it? How do I fix what’s broken?

A burning started behind his eyes. He tried to smile and it made him feel a little sick. Errant thoughts skipped over the past. Sonny, don’t go there. Don’t do that. Don’t be what you are. Without thinking, he leaned forward across the bed’s center, and kissed him. It wasn’t open mouthed or even overtly erotic, but it was on the mouth, and it was such a strange thing for him to do that he started to laugh as he pulled slowly away. Vinnie had a habit from childhood of laughing when things got too weird or intense.

Sonny’s sidelong gaze turned from sleepy to almost pissed. Or not, maybe not pissed…but…. Vinnie was laughing so he couldn’t really think it through right now. Then Sonny came all the way up so he was sitting, and he reached out and punched Vinnie on the shoulder, just a jolt actually, saying, “Why did you do that?”

Vinnie felt the punch but it didn’t really hurt. It made him laugh harder. “I’m still drunk,” he answered.

“Well, stop laughing,” Sonny said coldly, which made Vinnie laugh even harder.

“I said stop!” Sonny said louder. “And answer me!”

“What?” he said between breaths.

“Why did you do that?” Sonny demanded. It sounded like he was yelling now.

Vinnie said again, “I’m still drunk,” and dissolved into more laughing.

“Shut up! Stop laughing!” And all of a sudden Sonny was on him. “You fucking bastard, why? Why did you do that?” And Sonny was in his face, and his hands were fists, and he was trying to pummel Vinnie.

Vinnie fell onto his back and put his hands up to deflect the blows.

“What were you doing?” Sonny demanded. “Do you think that’s what I want? Huh? Is it what you want?”

And as the stream of words was released from the insane thing over his head, Vinnie realized that something was terribly wrong. More wrong than he’d ever imagined. Sonny was hitting him, in the face and the chest, like some kind of wild thing. And he was yelling, and he was saying very bad things. “Is it what you want? Is that it?” And suddenly Sonny’s body was pushing against him, unfriendly but suggestive, harsh and all wrong. “Cause I can give it if you want it. Do I got what you want? Is that it?” And he pushed hard again with his body, and he hit Vinnie in the mouth.

At that, Vinnie hit him back, but he was afraid to hit hard. This was still Sonny, wasn’t it? The same boyish angel who’d been, minutes ago, sleeping right next to him? He didn’t want to hurt him.

In that moment, Sonny lowered his mouth and kissed him bruisingly hard, only it wasn’t a kiss because Sonny bit him, not enough to draw blood, but enough to hurt. And Vinnie yelled and pushed him up with his body. Forget about that sleeping boy. Forget about all of it. This was a monster!

Anger surged through him. Fuck this! And he yelled as he pushed, “What are ya gonna do, Sonny, rape me?”

That made Sonny even crazier. “You fucking foul-mouthed bastard!”

The words echoed, but were cut short when Vinnie got the upper hand. He was only a couple inches taller than Sonny, but he was bigger in the chest and arms. In a fair fight, he could beat Sonny. He rolled over and grabbed Sonny’s still pummeling fists and held them above his head as he used his full weight to pin the other guy.

Sonny arched up, trying to knock Vinnie off, but Vinnie had Sonny’s arms pinned, and he had been very good at wrestling in junior high. When Sonny seemed to realize he couldn’t get loose, he said, through clenched teeth and with the meanest tone, “You gonna rape me now?”

“You fucking sociopathic little prick!” Vinnie yelled. And he let go of one of Sonny’s hands and clocked Sonny hard in the jaw.

Sonny’s head jerked to the side and he stopped struggling for a moment. His body went limp as he tried to catch his breath. “Fuck! Why’d you do it?” Now it almost sounded like a plaintive tone. He had stopped fighting. For now.

Vinnie looked down at him and said, “I don’t know.” And then he said, truly feeling it, “I’m sorry.”

Sonny said, strangely, voice slightly hoarse, “You’re my best friend, Vinnie. When did this get fun?”

Vinnie rolled off him then. “You’re the one who came at me like the Devil himself.”

Sonny sat up rubbing his bruised jaw. Then he grabbed Vinnie’s upper arm, but it wasn’t a violent gesture. “You have to tell me. You can’t just do something like that and not tell me why.”

Vinnie looked at him. “Well, why did you attack me?”

“Because you were fucking with me and I don’t like to be fucked with.” Sonny’s chin rose in his usual defiant gesture.

Vinnie frowned. “No, I wasn’t.”

“You were laughing like it was all some big joke. I don’t like to be laughed at.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you. Sonny, I did it because I felt like it. You just looked, at that moment, so…I don’t know… open…pure…something….so I just did it.” Vinnie looked away. “Jesus!”

Sonny said, fists clenching and unclenching, clenching. “Pure? Quit fucking with me!” He punched Vinnie on the arm again.

Vinnie turned to look at him again. “I’m not!”

“Because you can’t just fuck with another person’s feelings like that!”

Something started to dawn on Vinnie, and he took his voice down a notch. “I wasn’t, Sonny.” Softer, “Honest, I wasn’t.”

“Because I don’t like it when people do that to me.”

“Okay,” Vinnie said, nodding. “I get it. I don’t like it either.” Vinnie watched him. Sonny was sitting up, his chin in the palm of his hand, and Vinnie did not think Sonny even realized that that pout was back, full and boyish and utterly charming. And after everything that had just happened, dammit, Vinnie felt like he wanted to kiss him again.

Vinnie leaned forward and put his hand on the wrist of the hand that held Sonny’s chin. This is crazy, he thought. But he pulled it away, and he kissed him again, still clasping his wrist. He pulled back before he could determine if Sonny was going to kiss him back or not. “I’m not laughing this time, so don’t attack me.”

The pout was still there, but Sonny stayed still. Then he pressed his lips tight against his teeth, and his tongue darted out as if to try to taste whatever might be lingering on them. Then he looked up and said, “What do you mean by ‘pure’?”

Vinnie did not look away. “I can’t explain it.”

Sonny scratched at his jaw again, where Vinnie had hit him. “You turn everything upside down, Terranova. You have since we’ve met. I don’t know about you.”

Guilt started to rise like bile, but Vinnie pushed it away. He looked at the other man sitting before him, fully dressed, in the middle of a white satin bed, a man who had just been kissed, and said, “I don’t know about you, either, Sonny. Half the time you’re off being some fucked up, unpredictable crazy guy, and the other half you’re….well, like this right now.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Vinnie was starting to feel a little frustrated. “I mean, like now, when you’re listening, well, maybe I’m all wrong, but I feel like maybe, sometimes, we just connect.”

Sonny had his hand at his lips now and glanced to the side. “The things you say to me. It’s just…no one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

Vinnie felt a little frantic. He thought, This can’t happen. I can’t be his only good friend and then betray him. It can’t be like that. Out loud, he said, “If that’s true, then, that…kinda…sucks”

Sonny chuckled a little at that. “Yeah, it kinda sucks.”

Vinnie tried another tack. “You know what I saw when you were sleeping? How young you are. How big this world is. And how brave you are to fight it tooth and nail even though it’s still going to swallow you whole and there’s no way to stop it. But you don’t accept that. It’s a quality in you that…that…that I really like.”

Sonny stared at him outright, his eyes glistening. His mouth moved in a kind of scowl of distrust, but his words belied the look. He said, very softly, “Then do it again.”

Vinnie knew what he meant and leaned forward. Before they even touched lips, Sonny’s arms came up over his shoulders and pulled him in, and then they kissed for real this time, for the first time.

Sonny’s mouth was soft and pliant and Vinnie surprised himself by feeling himself almost sink into it. This was not going at all how he planned it. The heat between them sparked immediate and intense. And that was not planned either. His body responded so quickly and fully—This is Sonny and you fucking want him?—that his brain simply could not keep up. He had to pull back a little and think but Sonny was pressing closer and he liked it and his arms went around Sonny’s waist and tightened.

The fleeting thought occurred to him that Sonny had been ahead of him on this aspect of their feelings all along. That was why he’d gotten so offended and angry. Vinnie wondered, How long has he wanted me? Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t conscious on either of their parts, but obviously it had been there.

He felt Sonny’s fingers in his hair, soft, stroking. Just that, those fingers in his hair, almost set him off. What was this? He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have the manual for this. If it had been a woman, he would have experience to fall back on. If it had been just any guy, then who cared? He had no experience there, but he still would’ve pulled away, gone away. He wasn’t into guys. But this was different, this felt like neither. This was Sonny. And Sonny broke laws by his very nature. No, Sonny actually defied them. Even in bed.

What was it that he had his arms around? What was it that he was kissing like mad, like there was no tomorrow? He thought, Fuck, I’m just gonna go ahead and lose my mind right here, right now. Then he asked himself the question that Sonny had almost beaten him up for. Why did you do that? Why had Vinnie ever wanted to kiss him in the first place?

The answer swirled, like wind and whispers, making his brain sizzle. Because you love him and you want to fix this because you don’t want anything bad to happen to him ever.

A hand unbuttoned his shirt, touched his chest. Where it touched, it burned and Vinnie groaned softly. He was falling. He was falling as Sonny’s mouth on his turned sweet and yearning, as the hand moved lower, burning as it went, sliding under his waistband, further, further. His own hand moved from Sonny’s waist to the back of his trousers and pushed inside caressing soft flesh.

He didn’t know what to do, but he wanted to do everything.

Sonny pushed his body harder against him until Vinnie was on his back holding Sonny against his side as Sonny’s hand did things…did things. He gasped. He wanted to feel Sonny against him and reached toward the front of Sonny and undid the other man’s pants, pushing as he did so. Sonny squirmed out of them, taking his hand away.

Vinnie was shocked. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want Sonny to stop, but now he realized Sonny had unclasped Vinnie’s pants and was tugging until Vinnie lifted up, pushing them away with his feet. Then they pressed together, both so fully aroused that Vinnie thought nothing in the world had ever felt better than this. They rolled on the bed, sometimes Vinnie on top, sometimes Sonny, and he wondered how it could be so intense, so right.

They were both groaning. And they both couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Shirts were unbuttoned but that’s as far as they got with their upper bodies.

His erection pressed Sonny’s stomach, and Sonny was stroking him so finely, so smoothly. He thrust against him again and again and his orgasm came sudden and sharp and strong. The room whirled as he cried out, as his breath caught and held and he cried out again, his knees bending, unbending, legs thrashing under the edge of a white satin sheet.

Sonny grabbed him and held him tight and said, hushed and reverent, “Vinnie….christ….” He ran fingers through his hair again, kissed him again, and Vinnie thought he had died. He tried to reach for Sonny, but Sonny was holding him very tight now, thrusting against his hip and moaning. He clutched Vinnie’s shoulders and said it again, very soft, “Vinnie….” He felt the dampness and Sonny shaking and after that they were kissing again slowly, lethargically. It was like a warm wind going right through him, that kiss. They both still had their work shirts on, but nothing else. Vinnie thought, How funny…strange. Then the lethargy claimed him and he fell asleep.

 

There was a nightmare but he couldn’t remember the details, only Sonny dead at his feet, the vibrancy of his special mad charisma having gone out of the world forever.

Vinnie woke feeling as if he’d lost his soul. Sonny lay curled against him wearing only his shirt.

For a moment he could not move. His world had ended. He could not go on.

Slow vestiges of thought returned. Simple thoughts. Like a list. Number one: You must leave. Number two: You must never see him again. Number three: You must do everything you can to assure he comes to no harm from you. Sonny might not be safe in the world he chose to inhabit, but he was safe from Vinnie forever. It was like a vow that was automatic. Like a prayer learned in childhood. It was just like that. Vinnie would never harm him ever ever ever. And since he was, right now, the most dangerous person in Sonny Steelgrave’s life, to make good on the vow, he had to leave.

It was over. He had failed his first undercover assignment.

Now he could only concentrate on one thing at a time. His love for Sonny was unconditional. That could not be negotiated. But everything else in his life could.

He needed two things. A shower. A phone.

The first was easy. He got up, covering Sonny gently with the sheet. Then he gathered his clothes, and used Sonny’s facilities. He did not think. He just went through motions. He dressed in yesterday’s work clothes, white shirt, black silk suit, polished leather shoes. Without thinking, he used Sonny’s aftershave and walked back into the bedroom realizing that he smelled like Sonny now, he’d taken some of Sonny’s heady scent. Would it ever come off?

Sonny had not wakened. So that was good. That was best. But he bent down anyway, and kissed the sleeping pout softly. Then, as he rose he placed his Rolex and his diamond ring on Sonny’s nightstand.

In the living room he found his suit jacket and overcoat. He walked out the front door where two guards were quietly chatting. They said nothing. They were used to Vinnie. Nothing was strange or different here.

He took the elevator all the way down. For the last time, he walked through the casino a Steelgrave wiseguy. The guards all nodded at him, as if to say, Vinnie Terranova, he’s up early. Always an over-achiever, that one.

It was still dark outside, dawn not yet breaking. Vinnie caught a cab. When he felt they’d gone far enough, he paid, got out, and went into a phone booth. Shaking, he picked up the receiver and dialed.

It was night still so the ringing went on for awhile. Then, “Hey, Mike Terranova here.”

He swallowed and said nothing for a moment. He realized he didn’t have today’s paper. He’d have to use yesterday’s code words. He was trembling when he said, “Agent 4587. Day Code. Style section. Party. Garment. His….” He gasped, and started breathing deep to keep himself standing.

“Vinnie! You okay? Vinnie!”

He went blank. He forgot the ‘pull out’ code. Was it ‘breakfast?’ He couldn’t think. He gasped again. “I’m at 6th and Lincoln. I need Frank now!”

“Vinnie, hey, you got it,” Uncle Mike said. “Hang in there, buddy!”

Vinnie hung up knowing he would have to wait awhile. Even if Frank didn’t get dressed and came in his pajamas as he had sometimes in the past, it would still take 15 or 20 minutes.

But the car pulled up, screeching, in about 10.

Vinnie was leaning against the phone booth, his collar pulled up against the cold, his arms crossed tightly over his aching chest. When he saw Frank, he dashed to the passenger door, opened it, and slid in. “Just go,” he said loudly.

And Frank did as he was told for once, saying nothing.

 

Sonny was awake. He felt it when Vinnie leaned down and kissed him. He heard Vinnie place something on the nightstand. And then he heard him leave.

For a moment he just lay there, telling himself that Vinnie was just going to his own room. That Vinnie was the kinda guy who might not like to overstay a welcome.

Then he got up and moved his legs over the side of the bed. He reached for the items on the nightstand. Vinnie’s ring. Vinnie’s watch. He picked them up, held them in the palm of one hand, then lowered his head to touch the items to his lips. “Oh God….” He started to shake.

 

In less than 10 minutes, Sonny was downstairs, walking through his own casino. He questioned two of the guards. Yes, Mr. Terranova had come this way. Yes, he had left the building. Yes, he had caught a cab.

For awhile, Sonny stood on the dew damp sidewalk, looking up and down the dark street. There were a few clusters of people, tourists who had not yet gone to bed, laughing and walking by, but other than that, nothing. Nothing.

After awhile, he walked back into the casino. He saw nothing. Felt nothing. Heard nothing. Someone came up to him. “Not now,” he said flatly, heading for the elevators.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t think.

He did not go all the way up. Instead, he went to the second top-most floor. He got out of the lift and walked straight into Vinnie’s suite. He went into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. For awhile he did nothing. Then he slumped to the side, picking up Vinnie’s pillow, holding it to his face and breathing in, smelling what was left. The pillow muffled most of the sounds he made.

 

When Frank pulled up to the curb and saw Vince’s silhouette in the dark, the overcoat collar up, the hunched shoulders, the arms tightly crossed over his chest, he knew it was bad news.

Vince got in fast, saying, “Just go.”

So Frank did. He let Vince just sit, decompress. He knew it was going to be the worst news because Vince had never been this mysterious, never wanted to just leave without a word, just like that, no warning.

He had so many questions but he bit his tongue. He watched out the corner of his eye. Vince’s head was bowed. Then suddenly, the whole body was shaking. What the hell? His strongest operative, the best in the field, bar none right now, was crumbling before his eyes. What had Sonny done?

He clamped down on the rage. But he couldn’t help forming pictures in his mind of his hands around Sonny Steelgrave’s throat, pushing, pushing….

Vince’s hands came up to his face and he turned toward the window away from Frank. And Frank realized then that Vince was crying. Vince kept wiping his face on the forearm of his overcoat. It was awful, but Frank still said nothing.

Finally there was just quiet breathing. But Frank realized his heart was pounding triple time. What the hell had just happened to his field agent?

“Vince, tell me what you need.”

“You take me off this case now,” he said flatly.

“Okay, but….”

“You pull me out, Frank, now!” he interrupted.

Frank frowned. “I said okay.”

Vince seemed to relax a little.

Frank asked, slowly, “Are you in danger?”

“Probably only from myself,” came the answer.

“Is your cover blown?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Fuck yes. This is not what I signed on for!”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Silence.

“Vince,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, “You have to talk to me.”

Silence. He swiped at his eyes again, almost angrily. Finally, Vince said, “I just can’t go back.” He leaned forward as if trying to scrunch himself into a ball.

Damn Sonny Steelgrave to all nine levels of Hell. “Why?” Frank asked aloud.

“I just can’t.”

“I’ll need more to go on if I’m gonna help you through this, Vince.”

“I’m compromised, Frank. Okay?”

“Okay, I get it,” Frank said gently. “It happens. But maybe we can work through that together.”

“No! Let me put it this way, Frank. If you send me back you will lose me. Because I will go over to him. I’m about this close to turning right now! And if you don’t get me the fuck out of this city, I will no longer be working for you.”

Well, that was the big one Frank had been waiting for. He wasn’t quite prepared for Vince to confess to wanting to turn. Instead, he had thought he would be picking up the pieces of a man who’d been beaten or abused. Sonny had a despicable rep. From the way Lifeguard had made it sound, Vince was extremely panicked and paranoid. Well, maybe he was scared. But not of Sonny, Frank finally realized. Vince was scared of himself.

So Frank did the only thing he could. He said, “I’m taking you to the safe house now.”

Vince just nodded and said nothing more.

 

The safe house was outside the city and it took awhile to get there. Dawn was finally coming, turning the sky purple and green.

Once inside, Vinnie shrugged out of his overcoat and threw it on the couch. Frank was watching him, but Vinnie expected that. He was under close scrutiny now. He kept wondering what he should do. He laughed aloud. It was the same thought he’d had with Sonny in bed.

No training. No training for any of it.

“Okay,” Frank said. “You gonna tell me what you’re laughing about?”

“No.” Then he looked over at Frank and said, “You gonna attack me for laughing now, too?”

“What?”

Vinnie could not believe he’d just said that. Fuck, he was a mess.

“Vince, did someone attack you tonight?”

Vinnie just shook his head. “No. No. No.”

“Come on,” Frank said, surprisingly solicitous. “Let’s sit down.”

“I’m tired,” Vinnie argued. “I just want to go to bed.”

“I know.” Frank looked around almost helplessly.

Suddenly, Vinnie looked up and his eyes started to burn again. “Are you on my side, Frank?”

Frank walked straight up to him then, and put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m on your side, pal. Come on. I’ll show you where the bedroom is.”

When Vinnie took off his jacket and shoes, and climbed into the bed, it was the first time he realized Frank had indeed come rushing out in the night in his pajamas. It made him feel, for a moment, that everything was going to be all right. But the moment went by too fast and he realized nothing was okay now.

Vinnie lay down. Frank stood at the foot of the bed, looking at him.

“Are you going home?” Vinnie asked.

“Ah, I think I’ll stick around for awhile.”

“You gonna watch me sleep?” It came out strange, forced.

Frank frowned. “Not unless you want me to.”

Vinnie felt his eyes start to burn again. He said, turning to face the wall, “I don’t know why I just said that.”

“It’s okay, Vince. Just get some rest.”

Then Frank walked out of the room and Vinnie was alone with his thoughts and, finally, his dreams.

 

 

He didn’t want to think about what Sonny might do. He didn’t want to think at all. But he couldn’t help it. He was pretty certain that Sonny might hunt him. And Sonny had wealth and power on his end. He would probably be able to find Vinnie if he really wanted to. Maybe not for awhile, maybe not for a long time, but he would find him.

So he thought about that for awhile and that was when he started composing a letter in his head. He fell asleep before he was through.

His dreams were fleeting because he was so tired, but what dreams he remembered were horrible. More of Sonny’s death. More dead eyes. And Sonny attacking him, pounding on him with his fists, moving over him as if to rape him. Why the fuck didn’t he dream the good stuff?

When he woke it was 10 A.M. and he was sweating even though the room was cold. His head ached. For some reason, a Christmas carol kept floating through his head. The weather outside is frightful…. He groaned, then got up and went into the bathroom.

When he came out he saw Frank in the kitchen making eggs. Frank had on pajamas and a robe. His jacket had been thrown on a barstool. The TV in the living room was on, droning news.

Vinnie came into the kitchen, grabbed a glass from a cupboard and poured himself a full helping of tap water. He drank and drank and drank.

Frank said, “There’s juice.”

Vinnie said, “I wanted water.” His stomach growled but he felt sick.

He went into the living room and flopped on the couch in front of the TV. He saw nothing, heard nothing. He was still wearing his black trousers, his white shirt. He could smell Sonny on them. He glanced at the front door and thought, I could just walk away. Walk away. Then I’ll call him and he’ll come and he’ll pick me up. And because he loves me, he’ll do whatever I tell him to do. I could tell him to take us away. And he would hate me forever but he’d do it. I know he’d fucking do it.

Frank came into the room and set a plate of eggs and bacon and toast on the coffee table in front of Vinnie. Vinnie winced and felt his throat close up. He shut his eyes hard.

“You should eat something,” Frank said.

Vinnie rubbed at his eyes, then leaned on the armrest of the couch away from Frank and the awful breakfast aroma.

“Come on,” Frank encouraged.

Vinnie shifted, looked back at the plate. Then he got up abruptly. “I’m going to be sick,” he whispered and ran for the bathroom.

When he was done retching, he rinsed out his mouth over and over. He found a bottle of mouthwash and used it. When he came out of the bathroom, Frank was standing there looking worried.

“Vince, what happened to you?”

“What happened to me is still happening,” he replied, and moved past Frank and into the hall.

 

Sonny sat in his office fingering the watch on his left wrist. Vinnie’s watch. And the ring was now on his right pinkie. When Vinnie came back, he’d return them, but for now they were on his person at all times for safe-keeping.

It was early, but staff was still working round the clock and everyone wanted to bother him. He kept telling them to get out, but then more people would come. They didn’t understand. He couldn’t explain. He just sat in a kind of gray fog. And on auto-pilot, he worked a little to keep up the pretense that nothing had changed.

Someone said, “Where’s Vinnie?”

He replied, “None of your business.” And then wondered why he’d said it. So he corrected himself and said, “He’s taking the day off. He needs a day off sometimes, get it?” And still he knew he was sounding defensive.

He knew he had every means at his disposal to find Vinnie. And he had already picked up the phone ten times to call his own private investigators. But he had stopped before going through with it. At least for now. He wanted Vinnie to come to him. He wanted that more than anything. And he thought that, least of all, Vinnie had earned the right to be free to do that…or not.

He got out a piece of paper and a pen. Without really thinking about it, he began to write some words. He didn’t write for long because his hand was shaking. He said far less than he probably should have. Then he folded it and picked up another piece of paper he was saving for Vinnie. He wrote out a series of numbers on that. Then put both papers in the envelope and sealed it.

Then he sat there at his glass desk just staring. Until more people came in. Then he simply closed his eyes and ignored them.

 

“What’s still happening?” Frank asked, following Vinnie down the hall.

Vinnie sat back down in the living room but this time in a chair away from the couch and the food that still sat, untouched, on the coffee table.

Vinnie put his elbows on his knees and rested his head on the palms of his hands. The room was spinning. It had been doing that a lot lately either from too many drinks or too much Sonny or from being displaced now far from home, far from anyone or anything he cared about.

He looked up from his hands and saw Frank kneeling in front of him, Frank reaching out and touching the side of his head. And he realized he was crying again and he hadn’t even noticed.

He said, through heavy breaths, “Sonny’s nothing like his dossier, Frank.”

“All files on human beings are incomplete,” Frank replied.

“It’s not fair to me or to him,” Vinnie said.

“Who said anything about any of this being fair? We just are trying to do our jobs.”

“My job!” Vinnie started to laugh.

Frank patted his head, and sat back on the floor, his legs crossed. It was rather funny to Vinnie, to see him in pajamas while wearing shoes and socks. But he didn’t linger on the view. He looked at Frank’s eyes behind his thick glasses.

“You try sticking a knife in the back of a friend, Frank, and see how it makes you feel,” Vinnie added.

“You knew that was the job.”

“Yeah, and I thought it would be okay at first. I honestly did.”

“But then you got closer and you started to forget, right? It happens.”

Vinnie said nothing.

“Vince, Sonny is a cold blooded murderer.”

Silence.

“He’s a murderer,” Frank said again.

Vinnie swallowed hard. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“No. You tell me something about him that I don’t already know.”

And Vinnie looked away thinking, That he sleeps with a pout and his hand curled into a fist under his chin. That he says my name like it’s a fucking prayer. Aloud, he said, “His favorite movie is ‘Die Hard.’”

There was so much more to the list. Sonny preferred brunettes. Sonny liked plain French vanilla ice cream. Sonny liked music from the 60s. Sonny could throw a hard mean punch with his right fist when he was straddling you and pissed off crazy. Sonny’s favorite season was autumn. Favorite color: blue. He liked baseball and basketball but not football. He liked to play handball with Vinnie but he wasn’t very good at it. He preferred the wind on his face to air-conditioning. He hated public restrooms. He loved Jack Daniels, crime novels, The Moody Blues, his steak rare, his socks black, his wine chilled. And only hours ago he had just found out that when Sonny kissed you it was like a wind going right through you that had nothing to do with the mob or the job or the law.

But he couldn’t say any of that to Frank.

He felt his teeth shudder against each other, and his eyes were still so hot.

Frank touched his knee and said, “I’m going to give you time to decompress. You stay here and you rest up and you deal with it. Okay? I’ll be here for you but I can’t be here all the time. When I think you’re ready, we’ll go in and debrief and see if you’re ready for another field assignment. That’s what I’m gonna do for you. I wish you would tell me more details, but I can take one look at you and know that you can’t go back even though I don’t know the full story. I’ll deal with the paperwork. You just deal.”

Vinnie nodded. He could tell Frank was trying to guess what might’ve gone on. But Vinnie was pretty sure he wouldn’t. Because it was just too preposterous. Vinnie and Sonny? Together like that? Never in a million years.

“Okay, then, sportshoes. First we have to see about getting you some of your things from your apartment.”

Vinnie was grateful that Frank turned the subject to chores. He could handle that.

By noon when Frank left to go home and change, then drop by Vinnie’s to get him his things, Vinnie was left alone.

He wondered how he would handle it, if he would be tempted to run, or go to a phone. But he was so tired he just went back to bed and slept most of the afternoon.

 

When Vinnie woke the sun was setting and he felt a tiny bit better. He also realized he had made a decision. There was something he was compelled to do, and he was never going to tell Frank.

Frank had returned with Vinnie’s clothes, toothbrush and a pizza with everything.

Vinnie actually ate some of the pizza.

While they were eating, Frank said, “Tell me the truth. He didn’t threaten your family or anything, did he?”

“No, Frank.”

“And you’re sure he doesn’t know anything about what you do?”

“I’m sure.”

“So this isn’t about….”

“Frank,” Vinnie interrupted him. “I told you the truth. Sonny didn’t do anything. If anyone did anything, I did. I ruined the case. I forgot who I was. I was ready to turn.”

“What did you do?”

Vinnie just shook his head.

“Was it something criminal that you can’t live with?”

Vinnie shut his eyes remembering how he’d pinned Sonny, how he’d hit him so hard across the jaw. Are you gonna rape me now? Aloud, he said, “He was the pure one. I was infecting him.”

Frank looked confused.

Vinnie put a hand to his forehead. “His temper’s bad, that’s for sure. Hold onto your black hat. Here we go.” He looked up. “That’s Sonny for you. He was so mad. He thought I was laughing at him.” He heard his voice as if through a hollow tube. He swallowed. “But there’s an angel holding darkness at bay. I saw it. So no, nothing criminal happened.”

“Vince….”

“I know, I know, I’m not making any sense.” He wondered why he was even talking. Was the pizza spiked?

“What was he mad at you about?”

Vinnie thought about the question. “It’s just that when I was watching him he seemed like…like someone else.”

“What do you mean watching him?” He could tell Frank was being careful now. And Vinnie was unable to match things up in his brain. So he didn’t know why he still kept talking.

“He accused me of dreaming.”

“Vince…what?”

“He said not to fuck with him. But I wasn’t. Honest.”

Frank kept staring at him.

“You know, Frank, when something is broken, don’t you just get that urge to fix it? Like if you don’t even try it’s just gonna bug you all day long?”

“What did you do?”

Vinnie ignored the question. “And who am I to think I can fix anything? Damn I act high and mighty sometimes. How can you stand me?” He got up from the table and took his plate to the sink. Then he leaned on the counter, feeling like he hadn’t slept in days. He heard Frank come up behind him with his own plate. And Vinnie said, “Do you think sociopaths have souls?”

Frank said, “Jesus, Vince. I don’t know. I’ve met some damned soulless people in my time.”

“I clocked him real good on the jaw. Right there.” Vinnie reached out with his forefinger and traced a line toward Frank’s chin.

Frank did not move away, but instead said, calmly, “So you guys had a fight.”

“Nah,” Vinnie turned away. “It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like?”

“Like? What was it like?” He turned back and squinted through new tears. “I think I already mentioned it before. But if you’ve forgotten, well…it was like….” He closed his eyes, and held up his hands. “Like I was this close to turning.” He touched Frank’s arm. “This close. He got on me, Frank. I still smell like him. I don’t think it will ever go away.” He opened his eyes and the room swam.

Frank still looked confused. But he said, “Take your time here, Vince. Take all the time you need.”

Vinnie bowed his head. “I don’t trust myself anymore,” he said.

“You got out. You called Lifeguard. And you’re here. What’s not to trust?”

Vinnie let out a short laugh. “Trust? Oh Frank. Don’t be blind. I think his thoughts even now.”

All Frank said in response to that was, “Give it time.”

And all Vinnie could do was shake his head in amazement at the insanity of it all.

 

It didn’t get better with time, but Vinnie learned how to deal with it better, how to pretend better. All he did was think about Sonny. All he did was wonder what Sonny must be thinking in return, right now, this very minute. What was he doing? Where was he going? At night, just before he fell asleep, he would think about Sonny sleeping. He would remember how young he looked. The fist under the chin. The tangled bangs. He would turn on his side in his own bed in the safe house and imagine that Sonny was there and he was facing him, watching him as he fell asleep. He imagined that his own hands were pressed very softly against Sonny’s sleeping chest, and then he would fall asleep feeling a little better, a little more whole.

Every day that he was in the safe house trying to be calm, trying to collect up all the pieces of himself that seemed to be floating randomly through the air, he thought about going out, finding a public phone that couldn’t be traced. He imagined how he would do it. He imagined he would wear that same suit, the one that still smelled of Sonny. He would walk as far as necessary to find a public phone. He imagined what he might say. Sonny, I couldn’t stay. We were both in too much danger. I’m sorry I left but now I’ve changed my mind. Come and get me. Please come and get me.

It sickened him how weak he felt.

After about five days he started to feel trapped. The TV droned incoherently when he had it on. If he tried to read, he found himself reading the same sentence over and over. He sat on the floor at the coffee table and played solitaire for endless hours. It was too cold to go outside in the back and sit. Cabin fever was setting in. He had brief respites from his aimlessness when Frank came. And Frank was always good for him. Frank was like a grounding wire that kept anarchy at bay.

The sixth day, when Frank came, he had had enough. “When do we leave here?” he finally asked.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Frank replied. “Are you ready to be debriefed?”

“Never,” Vinnie said. “But I feel like I can’t stay here one more second.”

“All right then. I say you’re ready.”

And that was all it took, him asking and Frank saying yes.

 

His cover intact, Vinnie was taken to the OCB offices through the private, back door hidden from the public, accessed by car and only through various gates locked by various codes.

Vinnie wore jeans, a white cotton shirt and a black sport jacket. He felt totally under-dressed after living so long in silk suits and satin ties with diamond tie tacks. He turned to Frank in the car. “Will you be there?”

“Just let them try to keep me away,” Frank replied. “One piece of advice, though. Try not to get too poetic. Be as simplistic as possible.”

Vinnie nodded, remembering how disjointed he’d been that first night. But he’d been such a mess. Not that he wasn’t now, but he was able to fake normal better.

It took all day and it was a little rough, but most of it was standard procedure. Frank had made all the written reports of Vinnie’s calls and meetings with him all those months. Mostly, Vinnie was required to verify their truth, and sign off on them. Frank was detailed and by the book.

When they asked about his frantic phone call to Lifeguard that last early morning, Vinnie’s heart rate started to rise. But Frank, always prepared, pulled out another written report. “It’s all here,” he said. “Everything Vince reported to me and why he was compromised and couldn’t return.”

Vinnie had thought they would write the report together. It had only been a few days and Frank had spent so much spare time with him. When had he found the time to do this?

They all went over the report together with the OCB regional director. It was, to Frank’s credit, simple and to the point. Frank did not make Vinnie look weak, nor did he make Sonny out to be a threat. He merely mentioned a friendship that caused Vinnie to feel that his moral obligations to the OCB might weaken if he found himself in a spot where Sonny Steelgrave had to be protected. After months undercover, it was automatic reflex for Vinnie to protect Sonny. If he couldn’t control the reflex, Vinnie himself might be a danger to others in any confrontational situation. He had become too immersed in his undercover life. He had confessed to Frank that he was no longer behaving like the agent he had been trained to be. It was all detailed like that, but very impersonal.

The RD asked him if total immersion for so long was the only problem. Perhaps he did not have enough contact with his field supervisors. Vinnie denied that contact was a problem and impressed upon the RD that it was because of Frank that he recognized his compromised state. It was a little bit of a lie, but not much. Frank was a stabilizing influence.

They did ask about his relationship with Sonny. And Vinnie did not deny they had gotten close. Frank explained, in case they had forgotten, that Sonny had lost a brother very soon after Vinnie had gone to work for him. Vinnie had become the surrogate brother. An optimum situation, but a little too intense for comfort after so long, so Frank realized that pulling Vinnie from the job was the only way to help the agent and leave the case open for another operative to try to infiltrate. Both Vinnie and Frank verified that no one in the Steelgrave organization suspected Vinnie was a fed.

When the debriefing was over, Vinnie felt a huge weight had been lifted. In a few days there would be the reviews, and then the decision as to whether he’d be sent back out into the field. He had accomplished a lot on his first assignment. Leaving the job early had not compromised in any way all the other arrests they had made to Vinnie’s credit for the months he worked for the Steelgraves. There had been successes. And Vinnie came away not feeling like a total failure.

After the debriefing, he was free to go visit his family if he wanted, but he was instructed to make it brief and not stay with them. Since he had left the Steelgrave organization in the middle of the night, they might be watching for him. You didn’t quit the mob. It just didn’t work like that. And they were always watching.

Vinnie insisted he was not in danger from Sonny Steelgrave, that Sonny knew about his departure and although he had not been happy had given tacit approval. This lie seemed to work. And Vinnie did not have any trouble telling it because he knew Sonny was not going to hurt him.

At least for now.

 

First Vinnie went to his brother Pete’s church. He visited with Pete who was glad to hear that Vinnie would be moving on to another job. Pete had never liked Sonny, although he admitted he’d felt compassion for a man who was troubled enough to become an organized crime hood.

“So are you okay with moving on?”

Vinnie nodded absently. “Yeah, fine, why?”

“Because he was your friend. I know that. So it’s probably hard.”

Vinnie said, “No. It’s just that Sonny’s infectious. He can get in you. I’m glad to be away from that.”

Lying to a priest no longer bothered him. Lying to his brother never did.

While Pete left him alone to deal with some parishioners, Vinnie got his OCB agent I.D. card from his hiding place in Pete’s office. Then he went to another office where he knew there was a copy machine. He made one copy, then put the card back in its box. He sat down at Pete’s desk with a pen and wrote a note to the side of the copy of the I.D. Then he folded the paper, stole an envelope from Pete and addressed it rapidly. He rustled around some more and came up with a stamp.

When he left the church he went straight to the corner mailbox. Once it was inside the box there was no going back. If Frank ever found out he’d probably kill Vinnie himself. Oh well. Looking over his shoulder was starting to become a habit.

 

Carlotta was beaming with joy to see him. She made him sit. She made him eat.

“I’m so glad you’re going somewhere else now. I worried about you in Atlantic City. But I’m curious,” she said. “How is that man, that Mr. Steelgrave who was so taken with my Vincenzo?”

Vinnie swallowed at her words, almost choking on his cannolli. Chewing, he said, “He’s fine, Ma.”

“Will they ever send him to jail?”

“I don’t know, Ma.”

“Oh oh oh, I almost forgot. A letter came here for you. I know most of your mail goes through your box at the OCB, but this was addressed in care of me. But it’s to you.”

Vinnie’s heart seemed to stop beating. The cannolli threatened to come back up. Carlotta placed a white envelope on the kitchen table in front of him. Vinnie’s skin prickled. He instantly recognized the handwriting on the address.

“It came by hand courier,” Carlotta added. “I was told to make sure it was given to you and only you.”

Vinnie was stunned. Finally he got his voice back. “Thanks.” He stood, brushing his hands on a napkin. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll open it in my room.”

“Of course.” But her compassionate eyes looked a little worried.

Vinnie took the letter in his right hand and walked away. His fingertips burned where they touched the paper. When he got to his childhood bedroom he sat on the edge of his bed staring at it, holding it now with both hands.

Finally, he opened it. There were two pieces of paper. One was a check. It was for six figures. Vinnie set it aside as if burned. The other paper was folded. Slowly he unfolded it. The note said:

Vinnie:

I hope you get this letter. I hope you’re okay because if you aren’t I couldn’t live with myself.

I know leaving was your decision. I’m not sure I know why but know that you are protected. I will use everything I have to assure this. You will never be harmed by me or anyone associated with me. Nor will your family.

My door is always open to you, but if you find you cannot use it, I ask that you at least contact me by letter or phone to let me know how you are. Please don’t leave me wondering. You have the upper hand in this. You know where I can always be found. But I don’t know where you are.

I enclose your last paycheck. Don’t take it the wrong way. It isn’t a payoff or anything. You earned every penny.

Love, Sonny

Vinnie read the letter three times before he finally took a breath. He realized, upon the third reading, that Sonny was so held back, that the handwriting was formal but shaky. There was nothing in it about Sonny’s feelings. And Vinnie knew it was because he didn’t know how to write them down. This was the best he could do, and it was everything.

After awhile, he took the letter and the check and tore them up. He noticed, when tearing the check, that there was a handwritten number in the memo section. He stared at it. It was a phone number. And not the one to Sonny’s office. A private number. One he did not recognize.

He stuffed that piece of paper with the number on it into his pocket, then continued tearing the rest of the papers into tiny bits, including the envelope. When he was done he gathered them up, took them to the kitchen and threw them into the gas burner. They left ash on Carlotta’s stove which he cleaned with a cloth and rinsed down the drain.

He felt safe for now. But after Sonny received his letter hastily written in Pete’s office, he wondered if all that would change.

 

Sonny kept thinking about Vinnie’s voice, his hair, his eyes. He couldn’t concentrate. It had been over a week, almost two, and things had not changed. He wondered if he was completely crazy.

He had hoped Vinnie had gotten his letter. But he tried not to dwell on it.

He was more restless than ever these days. It was awful. He had no one to really talk to. The guys were not really friends, just the guys. And sometimes they made cracks that made Sonny hot with rage. Sometimes people talked about Vinnie, wondering where he was, if he’d skipped out, if he’d gotten himself whacked. Sonny didn’t like rumors, so whenever he heard them, he put a stop to it. He told his staff that Vinnie was away with his total approval and if any of them had any problems with that they could turn in their time cards and never return.

But Sonny had changed. He could feel it. He felt less fiery. He didn’t go out at night anymore. He stayed home and brooded or tried to sleep. Then he got up and sometimes he worked out in the hotel gym, and then he went to work. That was it. He felt like he was waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

But the business went on. And he showed up every day whether he wanted to be there or not.

His eyes were closed when he heard the door to his office open. He didn’t feel like dealing with another person right now, so he swiveled in his chair away from whoever it was.

Footsteps approached. Something was set on his desk. “Mail, Mr. Steelgrave,” said his secretary.

“Thanks,” he said, not moving.

Finally, he turned around and leafed through the stack. One letter fell into his lap. He recognized the handwriting immediately. His heart went into his throat.

When he unfolded the paper he simply stared at it for a long long time. The photo of Vinnie was not recent. He looked like such a boy. It was like the two pieces of information didn’t fit. The boy and the letters. The boy and the letters. The letters burned their way into his brain. OCB. OCB. OCB.

Then the name. Vincent Terranova. Vincent Terranova. Vincent Terranova.

There was a handwritten note alongside the photo.

Sonny,

You deserve an explanation and you deserve the truth. Here it is.

Please don’t look for me. It would only place us both in danger. No one knows I sent you this. No one knows the real reason why I left my job with you. No one knows how easily I would lay my life down for you now without a second thought. I could never harm you. But I was the most dangerous person in your life. And so I had to leave.

I only ask that, once you read this, if you do choose to hunt me, if you do choose to take revenge and make my secret public, that you leave my family out of it. They have done nothing wrong. It was all me. I deceived you. I let things go too far. And I cared too deeply for you to keep up the lies.

I really do love you. That part is real. I only hope you can some day forgive me.

Vinnie

After he read it the second time, the door to his office opened. Without looking up, Sonny yelled, “Get out! All of you!” Then he got up and locked the door.

He turned and walked slowly back to his desk. When he got there he stood in front of it, looking down at it, then he bent and quickly swiped his arm across the glass top. Everything went flying, then crashed to the floor, papers, computer, pens, photos. He looked around, moved to a bookcase. He threw everything off it, books, knick knacks, everything. He threw stuff at the windows. He threw stuff at the door. He threw everything he could get his hands on until there was nothing left in his office that wasn’t broken or dashed into a pile on the floor. Then he sat down on the couch where Vinnie had so often sat every day reading the paper, and he started to yell. When he was done yelling he was quiet for awhile. Then his breath started to catch and he couldn’t breathe.

Later, when he got back some control, he got up and searched the floor for the letter. When he found it he placed it on his now bare desk. He searched his drawers and found an old lighter. He ignited the letter and stood there watching it burn. When it was gone, he went to his office door, unlocked it and walked into the reception area.

Heads turned. They must’ve heard the ruckus. But he ignored the stares. He moved to his secretary and said, “Could you call housekeeping up here? My office is a god damn mess.” Then he walked out of the room and toward the elevators. For him the day was over. He was not coming back.

 

There were nights Sonny could not sleep in his own bed. Lying there in the dark staring up and seeing nothing, he would think of Vinnie and he couldn’t stop it. He tried every distraction. Sometimes the only way he could get any sleep was to get up and go sleep on the couch. Then he might catch a few hours of peace.

But even sleep was not necessarily a safe haven. Because without warning, the dreams could come at any time and knock him flat, turn him upside down. Sometimes he dreamed of beating Vinnie to a pulp. He often dreamed such an angry side of himself. It was that violent side where his mistrust of cops was so strong he took it out on Vinnie over and over. He knew he was mad at Vinnie, but not that mad. He was angrier at the cops that had done this to him and Vinnie, made them what they were, two men from two worlds that should never have met. And yet they did. And now everything had changed.

Deep inside he knew he could never truly hurt Vinnie anymore than he could hurt a member of his own family. But in his dreams he didn’t get to vote. In his dreams he hurt Vinnie so badly sometimes that he woke gasping in rage and wondering, for a moment, just who he was. What kind of person dreamed that way about someone they loved? Why didn’t he ever get to dream the good things?

He tortured himself by reliving that night they had together over and over. He tried so hard to block it out of his mind, but he always failed. His memories did not move linearly. Often they started with that one line that he could never forget…Vinnie saying to him, “You just looked, at that moment, so…I don’t know…open…pure….” And then Vinnie saying, “What are ya gonna do, Sonny, rape me?” And then he remembered the way Vinnie’s breath had caught when he cried out, and caught again as he cried out a second time and Vinnie’s whole body seemed to melt against him like warm rain.

Even now he could still feel Vinnie pressed hard against him, feel the smooth damp skin against his hands and arms as he gripped Vinnie tight, as he held him while Vinnie came. It seemed like Vinnie’s whole spirit had overflowed and filled him up right then and he hadn’t even known how empty he’d been until that moment. It was the first time in his life he cared more about another person than himself. He didn’t care if Vinnie went straight to sleep without even looking at him. He didn’t care if he himself got off or not. When had that ever happened to him in bed? He only cared that he was holding something that was powerful and strong in a way he had never known. Sonny had everything, power, wealth, women, expensive things, but this was something he had never had. Vinnie had a kind of strength that was different from Sonny’s. A kind of pulsating moral influence, a shimmering spirituality that no money could ever buy. It was something Vinnie had been born with and Sonny had been born without, and he clutched at it in wonder with an awe that was so alien to him he didn’t even know how to define it much less how to think about it.

The scene would replay. And then replay again. Until Sonny was dizzy and crazy and absently thrusting against his pillow. Usually his movements were not stimulating enough to make him come. He didn’t care. His energy was sapped anyway stirring him with a sense of utter desolation, and his arousal would abate leaving him depressed and confused.

Without Vinnie, he felt like half a man.

Sonny kept thinking, This will pass; it can’t last forever. Like grief, people dealt with it and then got on with their lives. So Sonny tried hard to do that even though he felt wrung out, impotent, a shell.

One night he got drunk and tried to drown his melancholy in an anonymous woman. When he found, to his dismay, that he could not even respond to her, he made an excuse that he wasn’t feeling well and left, appalled at himself.

He walked out into the freezing cold cold night, the lights in the distance like icicles on his soul, and sang with a bitter murmur, “The weather outside is frightful. Fuck!”

It was already early November. No snow yet, but the cold was like a grave.

He looked up at the glittering stars, then down the long dark avenue before he got into his car. Vinnie, he thought, where are you?

He drove home in a kind of drunken daze, knowing he was taking his life way too lightly right now but not caring. He went up to his penthouse and collapsed on the couch, letting the room spin and spin.

So how long had it been, he asked himself. A month? Six weeks? He had kept track at first but now the days blurred.

He lay back, his hands drumming on his chest, and stared at the empty ceiling. Then he began to sing to himself very very softly. “Everybody knows that the dice are loaded. Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed….” He hummed a little, forgetting some of the words. This was their favorite drinking song, and Vinnie always knew all the words perfectly. Softly, he continued: “Everybody knows that the ship is sinking. Everybody knows that the captain lied. Everybody’s got this broken feeling like their father or their dog just died.” He caught his breath, held it for a moment, then continued in an almost whisper, “Everybody’s hands are in their pockets…”

As he sang the word ‘pockets’ the phone rang, jangling him out of his reverie.

He jumped up, breath stuck in his throat. No one had this number. No one but Tracy in California and Dom in Italy.

And Vinnie.

He watched the cordless on the end table as it lit up, ringing again. He stared, let it ring one more time. Then he answered.

He said nothing at first. He just listened. He heard the soft static of long distance. He heard a kind of echoing emptiness. And he heard someone take a soft breath. He knew that sound. He knew it intimately.

“Where are you?” Sonny asked, surprising himself at how well he kept his voice neutral.

There was a pronounced silence that lasted to the count of about three. Then Vinnie said, “California.”

Sonny breathed in, then out. Then he sat down hard on his couch, closing his eyes tight. “It’s fucking freezing here,” he said. He winced. What am I talking to him about, the fucking weather?

Vinnie said softly, “Fuck. I swore I wouldn’t do this. I think I’m a little too drunk.”

“Join the party, pal. I lost count of the shots hours ago.” Not, I’m glad you called. Not, It’s good to hear from you. All the things he wanted to say. No. Instead, he found himself in the role of pretending he was sane and everything was normal.

“I really should go,” said the long-distance voice.

Sonny felt his throat close up. “Please, don’t.”

“Sonny….”

“You fucking bastard. You walked out on me. The least you can do is not hang up on me!” He was firm but not harsh.

Silence. But the line was still open.

After a few seconds, Sonny said quietly, “You don’t have to say anything. Vinnie, just don’t hang up. Please.”

Vinnie said nothing but he was still there. Sonny heard him sigh. He was thinking fast. Talk, but don’t scare him off. But everything he wanted to say sounded too accusatory or too intimate.

Finally, Sonny said, “I know you. You tore up the check, right?”

“I didn’t earn it.”

“You did. And I have the money in a separate account for you under your name. Any time you need it, it’s there.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Okay, but it’s still there for you.”

More silence.

Sonny said, “So how come you’re drinking?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me, too.”

“I thought you might be asleep. It’s three hours later there.”

Sonny said, “Well, I wasn’t.” God how he wanted to just climb through that phone line and grab him.

“So,” Vinnie said, his voice suddenly wavering and strange. “We’re even, right?”

“Even?”

“I hate what you do and you hate what I do.”

For a moment, Sonny could think of no response. Then he said, “You think I care what you do? You do what makes you happy.”

“You sound…not quite convinced.”

The song he’d been singing before the call traveled through his mind over and over. He said, in a very flat tone: “Everybody knows the dice are loaded.”

To his surprise, not only did Vinnie hear him but he instantly got the reference, because he replied, “Yeah.” A pause. “And everybody rolls with their fingers crossed.”

Just then he had a strange thought that maybe his singing just before Vinnie called had actually summoned him. He said, sighing, “And everybody’s hands are in their fucking pockets.”

Without missing a beat, Vinnie said, softly, “Everybody wants a box of fucking chocolates.”

They both said together, “And a long-stemmed rose.”

Then they both laughed quietly. And that laugh brought Sonny a feeling he’d been craving for so long. Instantaneous connection. Even with thousands of miles between them, there it was. Undeniable. And despite Sonny’s power that could crush Vinnie in an instant and Vinnie’s badge that could utterly destroy Sonny, they sat together, just the two of them, and laughed.

Something inside Sonny’s chest released with a little warm flourish. That was the first time in five weeks that he thought maybe the world had not completely ended after all. Maybe there was still a small piece of it left. The question was how to inhabit it.

Vinnie must have felt it, too, because his voice suddenly changed. He said, sounding almost like his old self, “You should see the room I got. Wallpaper with rosebuds. Some godawful polyester quilt the color of baby puke. You’d die before you would ever stay here. I swear, Sonny, you’d have a fit.”

“Tell ‘em you want it changed. Fuck.”

“Yeah, I don’t have that much say in what I’m doing right now.”

In a whisper, Sonny said, “Then just close your eyes, Vinnie, and pretend you’re here.”

“I’ve tried that every fucking night. But I always wake up here.”

“You just say the word and I’ll come get you. Any time. Anywhere.”

Silence.

Sonny sighed. “Okay then. Okay.” Don’t scare him off. Don’t scare him…period.

Suddenly Sonny heard some background noise, then a male voice. “I thought you’d gone to sleep, Vince. Who are you talking to?” Silence. “Hello, sportshoes, wake up. Earth to Vince, you’re on the phone. Did you forget you have it in your hand?” “Oh, it was just the front desk.”

Then the line went dead. Sonny stared at the phone as it droned its irritating dial tone. Finally, he clicked it off and threw it. Then he sat there for a long time staring at nothing.

 

Vinnie turned over on the bed and said, “Turn off that light, Frank, dammit. I was asleep.”

“With the phone in your hand?”

“It rang. I answered.” The door had been closed to his bedroom. The light off. He knew Frank had been in the front room, but he did not think Frank would just walk in without knocking.

“I didn’t hear it ring, but I heard you talking. I was about to leave. Since you have a meeting tomorrow, I thought maybe you were talking to them about it.”

Vinnie shook his head. He watched Frank glance at the table by the bed, at the half empty bottle of Jack. For a moment Frank just assessed him. Vinnie thought, What does he see? Can he tell? Can he tell? He took a deep breath.

“It’s not really good to drink before a job, ya know.”

Vinnie sat up and the covers slid down. He was shirtless and it made him feel even more like Frank was intruding. He grabbed the bottle and held it out. “Here. Take it away. I told you I was asleep anyway.”

Frank stepped forward and took the half empty bottle. “Are you okay, Vince?” he asked.

“Fine.” Vinnie pulled the covers back up and turned away. “Could you just turn off the damn light?”

“Sure. Sure. Good night, Vince.” The light flicked off and Vinnie buried his face in his pillow. Just close your eyes, Vinnie, and pretend you’re here, said Sonny’s voice in his head.

And that was exactly what he did.

 

He was sweating under his dark blue, pin-striped Armani suit. He never did that. Usually he was calm even under conditions such as these.

Two men held the rat bastard snitch, who knelt on the ground shaking. They were in the middle of nowhere. Sonny had already had his fit, his tantrum, scaring his guards into shocked silence. He was good at that. He knew that crazy side of himself could inspire fear just as the smart side inspired loyalty. The combination had always worked. Everyone was frozen in the field, waiting for the command. He had to take him out. That was the code.

But then it happened. He heard his own mind speak very clearly. And it said, What would Vinnie do?

He rubbed hard at his forehead with his gloved hand to shut up the voice. His sleeve moved up and the watch just to the side of his black leather glove glimmered into view. Vinnie’s watch.

Then he turned on the guy, the alien feeling of anguish clutching at his ribs. “What were you thinking? That you would get away with it? That I wouldn’t know? Why do you put me in this position? I don’t understand any of you people!!!” He felt his lips press into a twisted scowl. When he waved the gun, even his guards cowered. He thought, This is the fucking jungle. This is not my fault. It’s the jungle. I’m the jaguar. So fuck it.

He spun then, so fast that he knew no one saw it coming. He pulled the trigger. It went through clean. Then he turned away and said, “Clean up that mess. And if I find out any one of you was helping him, it won’t be that quick. I’ll make it slow. And you will see it coming.”

He turned and walked away toward the limo and his driver, thinking, What would Vinnie do? Fuck, Vinnie was a cop. He could arrest the guy and have him sent away. He has that choice. Sonny had no choice. There was nowhere to send these types. Except into the ground where they could do the least harm. What would Vinnie do? He punched his fist into his palm. Fuck you, Vinnie. Get outta my head!

 

Sonny did not want to be shaking over this. It was stupid. He was justified. But still, as he turned on the shower and stepped into the steaming spray, his hands wouldn’t hold still. His head began to throb. He let the water pound him, drown out all sound, all thought.

But thoughts still came pouring in without volition. You just looked …open…pure, said Vinnie’s voice. Half the time you’re off being some fucked up, unpredictable crazy guy. Then, You’re the one who came at me like the Devil himself.

Sonny punched the shower wall. It hurt but it felt good. He muttered, “I don’t like being fucked with.”

And Vinnie’s voice answered in his mind. I don’t like it, either.

Sonny bowed his head under the spray and shook it slowly. The way Vinnie was and the way he was made it obvious. Vinnie had to despise him. Vinnie couldn’t be Vinnie and not be disgusted. If he’d been there today he would’ve gotten that look of shock. Sonny had seen it before. Vinnie had tried to hide it, but Sonny saw. Vinnie was good in a fight. Even a rapid fire fight. Self-defense was Vinnie’s forte. But outright point blank murder made him sick. You couldn’t hide your feelings when your face turned green and you looked like you’d just eaten a handful of spiders. Sonny had pretended he didn’t notice that quality in Vinnie. That weakness. But he did notice. And now he could not help but think it. Why didn’t Vinnie simply hate him?

“I don’t understand!” he said aloud. He punched the wall again. You just looked …open…pure….

“I don’t understand!” His voice echoed off the shower walls.

The warm water kept pouring over him, but he barely felt it.

 

Sonny lay on his back on the couch in the dark and watched the reflections of the city lights in his giant plate glass windows. He wore a thick white bathrobe and that was all. The bathrobe came to just below his knees, leaving his legs bare. He kept bending his knees and kicking his bare feet against the far armrest in a steady, staccato rhythm. It jarred his whole body, making him feel better.

For the last two nights, he’d slept here. After talking to Vinnie ten days ago, he had, at first, been able to sleep in his bed again. But not now. And after today, maybe not ever again.

He dreaded sleep. He wondered what nightmares tonight would bring. Him killing Vinnie with that quick clean shot? Or him making Vinnie suffer in prolonged torture that left Sonny, on waking, feeling spiritless and bereft.

He tried to think about something else. Gathering up the laundry. Emptying the dishwasher. Calling up housekeeping for another once over even though the place was pristine.

And then he saw Vinnie in his mind, the blue eyes closed, the shuddery breath caught in his throat, strong shoulders under the white shirt, chest satin slick with passion’s sweat as he held him and held him…that quivering body so close to his and smelling so sweet that night it had felt as if they were actually merging.

The phone rang.

Sonny jumped up. The phone lit up again. He went to it hungrily, reached out to pick it up, then abruptly stepped back as if burned. How could he talk now? What could he say? Tonight. Why tonight? The timing could not be worse.

But he could not resist. He picked up the phone. And he answered knowing he was being a dick when he said, “Hey, sportshoes. I don’t think I’m the one you wanna be talking to tonight.”

He fell onto the couch flat on his back and waited for the expected dial tone. But none came. Instead, Vinnie spoke. “If you tell me why and I think it’s a good reason, I’ll hang up.”

“Not if I hang up first,” Sonny shot back. It felt both terrible and cathartic to talk to Vinnie this way.

Vinnie did not rise to the bait. He said, “We’ll see.”

Sonny started to kick at the armrest again. Thump. Thump. How could a person feel wired and deflated at the same time? Ah the mysteries of the universe. He heard himself say, “Just an all around fucked up day.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Fuck, did I say that?”

“No. But you’re talking, so you’re alive. That’s something.”

Sonny put his hand to his forehead and rubbed. “Vinnie, I never had trouble with the job before. You know me. I do what needs to be done. And I do it myself.”

Softly, almost incoherent. “I know.”

“So then I start hearing your voice in my head and it makes me crazy, man.”

“What does it say?”

“Smart stuff and fucked up stuff and stuff I don’t always understand.” He felt his voice catch. He kicked harder at the armrest. Thump. Thump. “It’s not supposed to be this way. I’m not supposed to feel this way.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not!”

“Okay. I guess that’s a pretty fucked up day, then.”

“I couldn’t look at him, Vinnie. I just did it but I didn’t look. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to.” He let out a quick breath. “But I did it. I still did it.” He pressed his palm flat against his eyes. It was as if he couldn’t hear himself. He wasn’t even sure he was talking aloud. And fuck all, on top of everything else he was confessing to a cop.

“Jesus, Sonny.”

“So, is that a good enough reason for you to hang up now?”

“Talk to me about something else.”

“There’s nothing else in my head, dammit! It’s full and raging and there’s a guy dying and I don’t know what to do.”

Silence.

Louder, he repeated himself. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Breathe,” Vinnie said.

Softer, “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Close your eyes and pretend you’re here with me.”

Sonny laughed harshly. “Yeah, right.”

“I got a better room. The bed’s hard as a rock, though.”

“Sucks.” Sonny knew Vinnie was trying to help, the way you would help somebody who was lost in a dark tunnel and they put their hand on your shoulder and say, This way, this way. And they lead you toward the light.

“Yeah, maybe I shoulda stayed working for you,” Vinnie said. “Except I hated that bed in the suite, though.”

“You did? You shoulda told me.” Sonny felt himself relax a little. His feet thumped softer now.

“Why would I complain to you? You gave me everything.”

“Maybe still not enough….” Sonny switched hands, cradling the phone to his other ear.

“That’s not true. I left because of me, not because of you.”

“I don’t know how you can say that. Isn’t it because of me that you couldn’t be true to yourself?

“Whenever I was with you, Sonny, I was true to myself always.”

At those words, Sonny felt a warmth flood through him. He said nothing.

“I kissed you, remember?”

Sonny just waited, listening.

“It was because I wanted to. You know that, don’t you?”

Sonny pressed his fingers to his forehead again, rubbing hard. “Vinnie, I don’t understand. Why would you want to? I’m everything you hate.”

“I just…I just wanted to. I couldn’t help it. Does everything in this world have to make sense?”

“No,” Sonny agreed. “Nothing makes sense. That’s what kids finally learn when they grow up.”

“Sometimes it’s disappointing,” Vinnie said.

“And sometimes, surprisingly, not,” Sonny replied.

“Oh God, ugh,” Vinnie muttered.

“What?”

“This fucking bed. It’s hard as a rock. I think my back is broken.”

Sonny laughed softly. “So, is that sportshoes guy there again tonight?”

“No.”

“Somebody you work with?”

“Yeah.”

“How come he calls you that?”

“Because he gets off on patronizing me. But except for one major flaw, he’s a pretty good guy.”

“What flaw?”

“He doesn’t like you at all.”

“He knows about me?”

“Not about the phone calls or…you know…private details. But he’s the one who picked me up when I left. If not for him, I…I….” He stopped talking.

Sonny listened but Vinnie was silent.

“He thinks I hurt you,” Sonny guessed.

“No.”

Sonny said, “You didn’t deliver my head on a platter like you were supposed to. That had to piss him off.”

“Maybe. But he didn’t act like it. His first concern was for me. He protected me in his reports. I owe him.”

For a second, Sonny felt jealous. “I protected you. I’m protecting you now, Vinnie.”

“I didn’t ask you….”

“I know you didn’t ask. You never fucking asked me for anything except to not involve your family. I never would anyway. I don’t operate that way. That’s old school.”

Vinnie sighed. “Thank you, Sonny.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Don’t thank me. It just is.”

“Sometimes I don’t know what I was thinking, leaving you like that.”

Sonny’s body felt warm, then hot. “You haven’t quite left, Vinnie. You keep calling me.”

Vinnie laughed.

“Say one word, Vinnie. You know I’ll be there.”

“I can’t.”

“We could meet,” Sonny suggested.

“No. I can’t.”

“Think about it.”

“Fuck, Sonny, I already have. Every single day since I left.”

“So you want to meet.”

Silence.

“I take that as a yes,” Sonny said.

“Yes.”

“You name the date and place, Vinnie. I’ll be there.”

“I can’t. I just can’t right now.”

“Well fuck that, then. What am I supposed to do? You’ve turned everything upside down like you always have. Even my most reliable jerk-off fantasies don’t work anymore.”

Vinnie chuckled, then laughed. “You are fucked up.”

“Tell me about it.”

Now they both laughed.

Sonny quieted, then turned onto his side and finally stopped pounding the armrest with his foot. “God Vinnie, it’s just so good to hear your voice. It’s what I needed tonight. You give me calm.”

“I give you calm?”

“Yeah.”

“So you must be tired. It’s three hours later where you are.”

“After two.”

“And you have been just lying there awake?”

“I’m on my couch. And yes I’ve been here all night just staring at the ceiling.”

“Why are you on the couch and not in bed?”

Sonny kicked out at the leather again with his foot. “I can’t sleep in my fucking bed.”

“Your bed’s fucking fantastic. Why not?”

“Bad dreams, stuff like that,” Sonny mumbled.

“About me.”

“About you.”

“Yeah, I got the same problem.” There was a pause, then Vinnie said, “I was picturing you there, though, in that bed.”

“Yeah? Really? How vivid is your imagination?”

“Very vivid.”

Sonny chuckled again.

Vinnie said, “I keep trying to imagine I’m still there with you and all the rest of this shit is just a dream.”

“It’s all a dream, Vinnie. All of life.”

“I didn’t know you converted to Buddhism.”

“Hah, you’re so funny.” Sonny laughed again.

Suddenly, Vinnie’s voice burst through the phone line. “Holy Christ! This bed was designed by the Marquis de Sade!”

“Say the word, Vinnie, and you’ll never have to lie in that bed again.”

Sonny waited, but Vinnie didn’t say it.

“What if I got up and went to my bed and you could pretend you were with me?” Sonny asked.

“Okay.”

So Sonny got up and walked down the hall to his bedroom. He looked at the bed with a scowl. “I don’t trust it.”

“You don’t trust a bed?”

“No.”

Vinnie chuckled. “So are you in yet?”

“No.”

“So get in.”

Sonny reached up and pulled back the bedspread and sheet. He heard Vinnie say, “So I can picture it better, what are you wearing?”

Sonny laughed. “What is this, a fucking 1 900 number?”

“You wish,” came the immediate response.

“I’m wearing a fucking bathrobe,” Sonny confessed.

“I pictured full Armani, head to toe.”

Sonny kept laughing. “Go on picturing whatever you want, crazy boy.” He took off his robe and got naked into the bed.

“So are you in the bed yet?”

“Yeah and the robe’s history.”

“Tease.” Vinnie laughed.

“What about you?” Sonny asked.

“I’m in the Marquis de Sade’s bed with nothing between me and the sheets.”

“Fuck.” And there it was. He was holding Vinnie against him again, pressing hard. And he had that feeling like he was filling up, and he heard again, as it had replayed over and over for weeks now in his memory, Vinnie’s voice crying out and the way his breath caught. But Vinnie hadn’t made a sound.

“Still there?” Vinnie asked.

“Yeah.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking about you.”

“Good. Just keep thinking like that. And don’t hang up. And maybe if we’re lucky we’ll both be able to sleep.”

Sonny shut his eyes hard against the tears that were starting to form. Who was this guy? He changed all the rules wherever he went. “Vinnie…” he said shakily, hushed.

“It’s okay. I’m still here.”

“Don’t hang up,” Sonny whispered.

“I won’t.”

And they stayed on the phone like that for a long, long time.

Sonny did not realize he’d fallen asleep until he woke in his bed with the sun trying to leak through his window shades. The phone had fallen to the side of one pillow. He picked it up, listened. The phone beeped rapidly but softly, its ‘off the hook’ cry for help.

He switched it off just as he realized he had slept, at long last, without having one single nightmare.

 

Sonny expected Vinnie to call again at any time. But a week went by with no word.

Finally, one night as he was about to get into bed, the phone rang.

For the first time he answered it without a sarcastic crack. “Hey.”

A strange voice said, “Mr. Terranova gave me this number.”

Sonny stood up straight and said, “Who is this?”

The man said, “I’m Dr. Wright at Sharp Memorial in San Diego. Mr. Terranova has been shot. It’s a shoulder wound. He wanted me to tell you he is all right, but I will have you know that while he is currently stable, it is serious.”

“Thank you.”

The phone went dead.

 

It took about eight hours, all in all, to charter the jet and make the flight plan and then get there by morning. It was 3 hours earlier in California, so it felt like he’d made even better time as the plane touched down just after 4 A.M.

He did not try for a routine visit. His way was better for Vinnie and for him. He knew instantly what back doors to use and who to pay. And it was about 5 A.M. when he walked through the door, dressed in Armani head to toe, and approached the side of the bed.

He had worried for a moment that there might be cops around, but Vinnie was under. The cops in San Diego didn’t even know who he really was.

Sonny looked down at him and tried to stay calm. He bit hard on his lower lip. Vinnie was covered with a sheet up to his waist, but the rest of his chest was bare except for a large bandage covering one whole shoulder. The chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of drugged sleep. The machines around him hummed and whirred.

Instantly, Sonny remembered when he himself was shot, and how much it had taken out of him.

Slowly, Sonny reached out and touched Vinnie’s arm. He immediately felt how cold he was. Skin dry and icy like death. “Jesus,” he whispered. He reached down to the foot of the bed where a blanket lay folded and shook it out. He placed it over the sleeping man. Then he reached up to his collar and untied his scarf. It was a white silk scarf, one of his favorites. Carefully, he threaded it under Vinnie’s neck and pulled it even. Then he tucked it over Vinnie’s chest under the covers. He put his hand on Vinnie’s hand under the blanket and just stood there watching for a long long time.

The hospital was fairly quiet. Just before dawn the whole world seemed to become quieter. It was the most perfect time of day.

Slowly, Vinnie stirred. His eyes opened but did not focus, then they closed and opened again. He glanced around, blinking, then moved his hand as if to squeeze Sonny’s. He looked right at Sonny. The pupils were dilated. He said, “Sonny?” Then his eyes rolled back and closed and he was still again.

Sonny moved his hand to Vinnie’s forehead and brushed at the dark, glossy tangles. Then he bent and kissed him.

Finally, he stepped back and just stood against the wall near the corner as the shadows moved and shifted with the coming of dawn.

Just before full light, he left.

 

Vinnie woke when a nurse stuck him in the arm with something painful. Slowly, he came back to his senses. He’d had a dream there was a man in his room. A man in an Armani suit.

He let the memory slowly wash over him. For some reason, the image comforted him. He never once imagined the image might be real, but he could still smell the unmistakable cologne. Yet Sonny was 2500 miles away.

For awhile he swam in a drug induced euphoria. He didn’t care about anything right now. It was a good feeling.

When Frank came, it was about 7:30 A.M. His bustling about forced Vinnie to wake more fully. “How ya feeling?” Frank asked.

“Really good,” Vinnie said, voice slurred. And there it was again, Sonny’s scent.

“You wanna sit up a little?”

Vinnie nodded and Frank figured out how to make the upper half of the bed rise. The blanket fell a little, exposing his neck and part of his chest.

Both he and Frank noticed the scarf at the same time. Vinnie’s good hand came up to finger the edge of the white silk.

“Hey, where’d you get that?” Frank asked.

Vinnie didn’t answer. He brought the edge up to his face and breathed in. Sonny.

The image returned. In the shadows stood a man in an Armani suit. How long he’d stood there, Vinnie didn’t know. But it hadn’t been a dream.

“Vince?” Frank prodded.

Vinnie turned away so Frank wouldn’t see the heat rise to his eyes. He pulled the scarf closer and breathed in again. All he could think was, He was here. Sonny was here. Sonny was here.

After awhile he heard Frank leave the room. He fell back into a lethargic doze, but he never let go of the scarf.

 

A week later, at the beginning of December, Sonny’s phone rang. It was midnight.

He had been watching the late show. He flipped it off with his remote and grabbed the phone.

Sonny said, “This better not be the doctor again.”

“No, it’s me.”

“How are you?”

“I’m doing good.”

“Where are you?” Sonny asked.

“I’m not in San Diego anymore.”

“Moving on?”

“Yeah.”

“So who shot you so I can make sure they’re buried deep enough?”

Vinnie ignored the question. “You came to see me.”

“You’re surprised?”

Vinnie didn’t answer.

“You wouldn’t do the same?” Sonny asked.

“Yes, I would.”

“Then there you have it. Don’t act like I broke some law or something.”

“Thank you for the scarf.”

Sonny sat back on the couch and put his legs up on the coffee table. He was still wearing his silk trousers and white shirt. “When I came in to see you, I touched your arm. You were freezing.”

“You’re the one who covered me with the blanket.”

“Well, no one else was going to. What kinda place are they running there anyway?”

“Thanks,” Vinnie said.

“So where are you?”

“I’m not going to tell you right now.”

Sonny mulled that one over. “Great.” He realized that probably Vinnie was close by. If he was far away, he would’ve been more forthcoming.

“I should go. This is…well…not a good night for me. And I’m really tired.”

“Come on. Don’t do this,” Sonny said.

The phone went dead. Sonny sighed and leaned forward on the couch. He ran his fingers through his hair. Think, man, think.

He knew with all his heart that Vinnie wanted to see him. That was why he’d hung up. Vinnie didn’t trust himself. But where would he even begin to look? Vinnie wasn’t stupid enough to go to his family. But that other guy, what was his name? That sportshoes guy. He’d looked into that man after that first phone call from Vinnie and he’d found out the guy’s name was Frank McPike. The same Frank McPike that had been a thorn in his side since Vinnie had come to work for him. Sonny knew then without a doubt that Frank would know where Vinnie was.

 

It took Sonny’s men about two days to find and put a tail on McPike. But Frank was wily. He took odd routes and doubled back, the way a well-trained fed would do. Sonny’s tails lost him numerous times.

Sonny figured Vinnie was still recuperating somewhere. Somewhere close enough to Frank and his offices, but somewhere hidden, possibly even remote.

After three more days, Sonny’s men were able to report that Frank had made several trips in the direction of Philly. It narrowed his search a bit, but there were still a lot of small towns between there and Atlantic City.

So Sonny went driving just to look for himself. He went alone.

It was the weekend so if he wanted to he could drive and stay over somewhere, and then drive some more. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Frank’s car, of course, but there were only a million cars between here and Philly. Finding it would be like getting struck by lightning. Chances were great that it wouldn’t happen.

He had no luck the first day or night. He stayed overnight in a nice hotel, and then started out again in the morning.

By the next evening, he was famished. He pulled into a steakhouse off the route, dreaming of a baked potato with everything, and a ribeye, rare. He got out of the car and the air was ice cold. Christmas carols were playing through the speakers by the front door. Just as he pulled up the collar of his overcoat it started to snow. He turned his face up to the soft dampness and closed his eyes.

Finally he walked into the restaurant. The hostess came up to him immediately, but Sonny said, “I’ll be right back. Gotta wash my hands.” He hated going into public restrooms but he had no choice. He felt grimy from driving all day and he wasn’t gonna eat without first washing his face and hands. He pushed open the door and went to the sinks without really looking up.

Another man stood at the far sink dressed in a black leather jacket. Sonny ignored him and turned on the water, but out the corner of his eye he could see the guy going through his pockets looking for something. It was funny because the guy was tall, like Vinnie, with the same kind of black hair. He scowled as he turned to get a better look, his hands still moving under the warm water, and the other man turned at the same time.

For a moment they just stared at each other. Sonny felt his mouth open in utter and total astonishment.

Vinnie gasped, then started to look faintly sick. Then like a bolt he moved past Sonny, pushed through the door and was gone.

Sonny turned immediately, watching the swinging door, then started forward and chased after.

 

Frank and Uncle Mike, whose real name was Dan, sat at their table still finishing up. Vince hadn’t been gone long.

It had been nice to spend the weekend together like this, Frank mused. And Vince was doing really really well.

He was about to make a comment to Dan, when suddenly he saw a flash of black leather dart past the front of the restaurant, running.

“Hey, where’s Vince going?” Frank said loudly.

“What?” Dan looked in the direction Frank was looking.

“He just ran by the front register.” As they watched, another man in a gray overcoat rushed by in the same direction. The man had dark brown hair and was wearing a lot of fancy rings. There was no mistaking it. “Damn it all!” Frank swore. “That’s Sonny Steelgrave!” And he was up in an instant and going after them.

Dan was slower on his prosthetic legs, but he rose, too, and headed for the exit.

 

Vinnie was fast. Sonny followed him around the huge building and toward the back parking lot, his overcoat flying behind him like a cape. “Vinnie!” he called. “Wait!”

Vinnie slowed down only when he saw they were out of range and sight of the front of the building. The back lot was deserted. He backed up against the building’s far brick wall, clutching his shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

Snow fell everywhere, soft and silent. It caught in their hair, on their faces and coats. Distant Christmas carols played.

Sonny caught up to him. Before he could say anything, Vinnie said, “You need to leave now.”

“I was stopping for dinner. I just went in to wash my hands.”

“Jesus,” Vinnie said, and he was shaking. Sonny reached out to steady him, one hand on his shoulder and pressing as Vinnie leaned flatter against the wall.

“Hold it!” Came a voice from the sidelines. “That’s far enough. Take your hands off him now, sportshoes.”

Sonny turned and found himself face to face with a drawn gun and Frank McPike.

He moved to the side and put his hands up in front of him. Frank strode quickly forward and stuck the gun hard in Sonny’s side. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Hey!” Vinnie said. “Don’t. Frank!” Without warning, Vinnie shoved directly in front of Frank, putting Sonny behind him. And now Frank’s gun was pointed at Vinnie.

“Holy Christ!” Frank yelled, dropping his hand. “What the hell?”

“He wasn’t attacking me, Frank. Stop it!”

“You, mister, are one step away from me just wiping the mat with your ass. What the hell is going on, and why are you acting like you know me?”

Vinnie started shaking again. Frank didn’t know Sonny knew Vinnie was a cop. Frank thought Vinnie was blowing his cover right now. And Frank was pissed. Frank looked like he was ready to kill someone.

His shoulder where the bullet had ripped through cartilage and nerves screamed. His eyes closed. The world swam and he felt himself start to fall back. Sonny caught him. And that was all he remembered.

 

As he came to, he heard voices.

Sonny: “Where the fuck do you get off talking to him like that?”

Frank: “Who are you to tell me how to talk to him?”

Something was cushioning Vinnie’s head. He groaned, moving slightly, and realized it was Sonny’s thigh.

Sonny: “Well, Mr. Sportshoes, I’m a lot better friend to him than you seem to be.”

Frank: “Get your hands off him!”

Sonny: “You get your hands off me!”

Frank: “I could shoot you right now and no one would ever question it.”

Sonny: “Fucking hell, asshole. Is that OCB policy now?”

Vinnie groaned again. “Stop,” he said, trying to open his eyes.

Sonny: “Vinnie! Come on. Wake up. You’re okay. You just fainted.”

Vinnie felt a cool hand on the side of his face. He heard Christmas carols in the distance. “The weather outside is frightful….” Snow drifted into the collar of his jacket and under the white silk scarf he wore beneath it – Sonny’s scarf. The icy flakes left cold trickles of water on his neck. He opened his eyes, snowflakes catching at his eyelashes, and with Sonny’s help he sat up. “And since we’ve no place to go,” sang the carols, “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.” His shoulder felt like it sported about ten fire-hot knives.

He looked at Frank, who knelt beside him. Frank just watched him now. There was no expression on his face. Finally, Frank moved back a little. He looked at Vinnie, then up at Sonny, then back at Vinnie. And he said, “How long has he known you’re a cop?”

Neither man answered. Vinnie looked away.

“How long, Vince?”

Sonny said, “Fuck you, McPike. Quit yelling at him.”

“Okay, then. That’s it.” Frank stood. “For Vince’s protection, I have to take you in.”

Vinnie tried to stand. “No, Frank, please….” The carol sang: “The lights are turned way down low. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”

Frank turned to Vinnie. “And you, too.” And he added sourly, “We wouldn’t want your cover blown to the rest of the world, now would we?”

Vinnie gulped.

“Mr. Steelgrave, you are under arrest….” And he droned on and on. He had one pair of handcuffs and he used them on Sonny, twisting his hands behind him. Sonny was silent; he made no protest.

Just then, Dan limped up. “You got cuffs on you?” Frank asked him. “I need them for him.” He nodded toward Vinnie.

“What’s going on?” Dan produced the cuffs.

“I’ll brief you later.” Frank walked over to Vinnie and pulled his hands behind him. Vinnie’s shoulder felt like it exploded. Vinnie bit down hard to keep from yelling.

Sonny got a look of complete disbelief on his face, but he said nothing. Together, the four men walked to Frank’s car. The carol sang, “But as long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.” They got in, Vinnie and Sonny in the back, Frank driving, Dan in the front passenger seat. Sonny turned to Vinnie then and said very softly, “Yippie ki yay….”



 

They did not go to the police station in Atlantic City. Instead, they headed for Philly, which was closer. It was still a long drive, and Vinnie, with his hands behind his back, could not get his shoulder to relax. He tried to keep quiet, but the pain radiated through him like sizzling metal. He gazed out the window, watching the snow fall to the road and get eaten up by black asphalt and headlights. He felt Sonny keep looking at him, but he didn’t move.

Finally, after about half an hour, Sonny said, “Mr. McPike. What’s your organization’s policy on torture?”

“Shut up,” was Frank’s reply.

“Well, if you have one, and I’m pretty sure you do, does it including torturing your own agents?”

“What the fuck….”

“Dammit, could you at least stop and cuff Vinnie in the front? Asshole!”

Frank looked over his shoulder. Vinnie kept staring out the window. He was in his own world, the pain making everything hazy. His skin was clammy. He was breathing a little hard. Finally, they pulled over. Frank got out and came around, opening Vinnie’s door. He undid the cuffs. Vinnie leaned forward and put his right hand in front on his lap. His left was slower, the shoulder so stiff now he could hardly move. He tried to lift his arm and groaned aloud as knives exploded into nerves.

Frank said, a little nicer now, “Where are your pain pills?”

“In my pocket.” They found them and Vinnie took one, swallowing it dry.

This time Frank cuffed Vinnie loosely, with his hands in his lap. It was much better now. Thanks to Sonny.

In the front, Dan wisely said nothing.

When they got to the police station, Frank ushered them in. Dan followed slower. They commandeered an interrogation room with the cooperation of the local police, and Frank led Vinnie and Sonny into it. He uncuffed them both, then said, “I’ll be right back.” He walked out, the door slamming behind him.

Immediately, Vinnie said, “He’s gonna want to send you up because you know about me.”

“On what charge?” Sonny asked.

Vinnie shook his head. “I don’t know. Knowing Frank, he’ll find something.” Vinnie looked up earnestly. “This is why we couldn’t meet, Sonny. This is exactly why. I don’t want you in prison because of me.”

“Well, we’ll just tell him you’re not in danger. Not from me. It’s the truth.”

“He’ll never buy it.” Vinnie turned away, eyes growing hot. He heard Sonny come up behind him, felt a touch on his uninjured shoulder.

“He will from you,” Sonny said.

Vinnie turned, just shaking his head wordlessly. Sonny’s arms came up and around him then, but Vinnie backed up. “They have cameras,” he warned.

“Do you think I give a fuck?” And he pulled Vinnie to him. “It’s been almost three months. Christ, I’m only human.”

After a moment, Vinnie’s arms came around Sonny. He closed his eyes and hugged him back tight, turning his face into Sonny’s neck, into Sonny’s spiced sweet scent. Sonny’s hands moved up along the back of his leather jacket until his fingers nestled in Vinnie’s hair.

 

Frank watched the live video feed. Dan stood beside him. Frank noted the way Sonny came over to Vinnie almost aggressively, and how Vinnie backed up. It pissed him off to see that. What did this guy have over his agent? But then something changed. Sonny reached for Vinnie again and Vinnie let him. Then Vinnie raised his arms and closed his eyes, hugging back, turning his face down into Sonny’s neck. The moment was so intimate that Frank became confused. And when the hug didn’t end, and Sonny’s fingers climbed slowly into Vinnie’s hair, Frank went blank. Frank decided he must be seeing things…or else he’d gone completely mad.

Dan said, matter of factly, “I never would have guessed that in a million years.”

Frank breathed in, then out. “Not in a million lifetimes.”

Dan turned to Frank. “So Vinnie didn’t tell you they were lovers?”

“What?” Frank turned away. Softer, he said, “Uh, no. Never.”

“It explains a lot.”

“Jesus, Dan. I’m still not sure I’m a believer. This is dangerous stuff.”

“Then ask him. Talk to him.”

“Sonny knows he’s an undercover cop. That’s a powerful hold to have over someone.” But Dan was right; it explained a lot of Vinnie’s behavior at the safe house. He remembered Vinnie touching his arm in the kitchen and saying softly, I was this close to turning. And he remembered him saying, He got on me, Frank. I still smell like him. And I don’t think it will ever go away.’ And later Vinnie had said, I think his thoughts even now.

Dan said, “Sonny Steelgrave hugs a cop that intimately of his own free will and that doesn’t make you a believer? What would, Frank? Video of their bedroom antics?”

“Now now, don’t get testy with me, Dan. It just doesn’t make sense. Sonny’s a monster. His brother killed Stan.” Again, Vinnie’s voice came back to him from the safe house. If anyone did anything, I did. When something is broken, don’t you get the urge to fix it?

“Well, Frank, come on. Look at them. They aren’t stopping.”

“I’d rather not.”

Dan just sighed.

 

Vinnie pulled back. Sonny fingered the white silk scarf around Vinnie’s neck. “You’re wearing it.”

“It was cold out.” But Vinnie wasn’t cold anymore. Just the nearness of Sonny made him flushed.

Sonny gave him a wry smile, lifting his left hand to tug the scarf more evenly into place. Vinnie looked down at Sonny’s wrist. “You’re wearing my watch.”

“Never take it off except to shower.”

“You didn’t just happen by the steakhouse, did you?”

“I was looking for you but I had no information except a wide area to look in. I’ve been driving around for two days and when I stopped at the steakhouse, Vinnie, I had honestly given up. I was about to just grab a bite and go home. Really.”

Vinnie scratched the back of his head. “I don’t believe in fate but Jesus!”

“I was as shocked as you,” Sonny said. “I mean what are the odds? I was just going in to wash my hands and there you are? That’s like winning the lottery and getting struck by lightning just as you’re cashing the check.”

“The lightning is just getting started. I have no clue what Frank is going to do about all this or how much he’s already figured out.”

“Well, if he was watching, we gave him something to see. I was gonna kiss you but I thought you might be mad if it gave him a heart attack while he was playing Peeping Tom.”

Vinnie chuckled, wishing right now that Sonny had done just that. “You can bet he was watching. Frank does nothing half-assed.”

“Well, he seemed pretty pissed off already, so I guess we just wait and see.” Sonny took off his overcoat, walked over to one of the chairs and draped it. Then he sat down. He was wearing a blue and white wool sweater and navy blue slacks. He looked lean and fit and fantastic. He couldn’t have looked less like a mobster than at that moment. Vinnie took his jacket off and sat down next to him.

Sonny turned to him. “I feel like we’re in school waiting for the principal to come in and tell us what bad boys we’ve been.”

Vinnie glanced at the door. “I wish it was that easy. Frank eats principals for breakfast.”

 

“This is insane,” Frank was saying.

Dan frowned. “You’ve been in the field before. It happens.”

“Not like this,” Frank said curtly.

“What do you mean ‘not like this’?” Dan asked.

“It’s Sonny Steelgrave.” He let that sit for a moment.

Dan shrugged.

Frank continued, “And Vinnie’s not…not…like that.”

“Like what? Gay? Maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s bi. Or maybe it’s just one of those things that happens and no one knows why.”

Frank huffed.

“And you locked him up for 18 months, Frank. With a thousand other men.”

“He was protected around the clock. You know that. And besides, that’s different.”

“Okay. Yeah. So what is it? That it’s Steelgrave or that he’s a guy?”

“Both maybe. Whatever.” Frank ran his hands over the side of his head, trying to make his headache go away.

“So are you saying you’d feel different if it was a woman?”

Frank sighed loudly. “I’m no bigot! It’s just that it’s Vinnie!”

“So?”

“Steelgrave is a cold-blooded….” His voice rasped. “This guy…he’s not right in the head.” Frank heard Vinnie’s voice in his mind again. Don’t you ever just get the urge to fix it?

“What do you know about Sonny that isn’t in the official records?” Dan asked.

Frank knew Dan was trying to be helpful and he remembered Vinnie saying something similar about Sonny not being anything like his dossier. “Not much.” Then he added, sounding almost digusted. “He likes the movie ‘Die Hard.’”

“Well, maybe there’s something we missed that Vinnie knows. Something else. Something…I don’t know. It’s not about money or anything like that, I don’t think. Vinnie’s trustworthy. Vinnie’s a good guy. Maybe he’s a bad judge of character, or maybe there’s a lot we don’t know. Friendship is a strange thing. Friends help friends bury bodies, and all that. You sent him in there to do that stuff. They got close. Vinnie wanted to turn and you know it wasn’t because of all the trimmings. That’s huge. You said it yourself. Nothing’s black and white.”

“Yeah,” Frank said weakly. He looked at Dan straight in the eyes. “How do we find out? I mean, I’m just afraid Steelgrave really does have something on him, something criminal, maybe. Something Vinnie can’t live with.”

“And you think Vinnie’s not free to make his own choice?”

Frank nodded. “Maybe. I gotta be sure.”

“There might be a way to go about this.” Dan got a shrewd look. Frank got very interested very fast.

 

Frank entered the interrogation room followed by Dan. Frank and Dan sat in two chairs on the other side of the desk facing Vinnie and Sonny.

“Okay, now,” Frank said, heavily sighing. “I’ll cut to the chase. That was a nice performance. Nice show. But I need the truth from you boys, and I need it now.”

“Whatever you like, Mr. McPike,” Sonny said coolly. “Dates, times, terms of endearment.” He leaned forward menacingly. “What. Do. You. Want?”

Frank ignored Sonny for the moment. He turned to Vinnie, who did his best not to squirm. “Vince, your cover is blown. It’s my job to see that you are protected.”

“My cover is intact, Frank,” Vinnie said firmly.

“You are aware, my friend, that Mr. Sonny Steelgrave is sitting right next to you as you make that statement.”

“Very aware since we haven’t seen each other in 3 months.”

Frank scowled.

“Except for the hospital,” Sonny added. “I saw him there.”

Frank’s eyes got big for a moment. But he seemed to let that slide. He faced Sonny. “How long have you known Vince is a cop?”

“A little less than 3 months.”

“And who else have you told?”

“Just you, sport,” Sonny replied.

“Now why don’t I believe that?”

Sonny sighed, then turned to Vinnie. “I haven’t ever lied to you. I’m telling you and no one else here in this room. I have told no one.”

Vinnie nodded. This wasn’t going to help, though. Frank was on the warpath. Vinnie knew how Frank felt about Sonny. It was only going to be a matter of time before it got ugly.

Frank looked unmoved. But he didn’t push it further. “So what is this, then? You guys have an agreement?”

“Something like that,” Sonny said.

“Vince, is there any coercion?”

Vinnie looked at Frank, disgusted. “Where do you get these questions? No. It’s nothing like that.” Vinnie caught Dan’s gaze. Dan gave him a small, encouraging smile and nodded once.

“I have to ask these questions, Vince, because of who he is.”

Sonny looked down at his right hand, made a loose fist and pretended to examine his fingernails. “You wound me to the core, McPike.”

“I am stating facts, sir.” Frank’s voice strained as he tried not to yell. “The list of your crimes, sir, includes murder, assault, embezzlement, money laundering, illegal import and export, tax evasion, grand larceny, petty theft….”

“All rumors,” Sonny interrupted. “Wait. What petty theft?”

Vinnie turned to look at him not deciding if he should be amused or horrified at Sonny joking about this.

Frank snorted. “You are one of the most notorious….”

Again Sonny interrupted. “So? Whatever adjectives you want to use to describe me aren’t anything I haven’t heard before. What does this have to do with Vinnie being a cop? And all those other things, well, show me proof.”

Exasperated, Frank took off his glasses and began frantically polishing them on his flannel shirt. Vinnie looked down at his twined hands, twisting his thumbs back and forth.

Frank said, without looking up, “Are you challenging me to bring you up on charges?”

“You do what you have to do.”

“I always do.”

“Fine. Then I want a lawyer.”

Frank sighed.

“Now!” Sonny added.

“All in good time,” Frank drawled.

“Asshole!” Sonny leaned back and waited.

Frank said, “What were you doing at the steakhouse tonight?”

“Believe it or not, I dropped in for dinner.”

“I think not. Did Vince call you?”

“I didn’t call him, Frank,” Vinnie said.

“He never told me where he was,” Sonny said. “In fact, he refused. That is God’s honest truth.”

“Which god?” Frank asked. “Because that makes absolutely no sense!”

“If he had told me where he was, then what sense does it make that he’d tell me to meet him at a steakhouse where he’s having dinner with two cops who believe I’m the Devil and would just as soon kill me as look at me?”

“It was an accidental run-in, Frank,” Vinnie said.

“Why’d you run?” Frank asked.

“I… I… I really don’t know. I just knew that I was a danger to Sonny. I had to get out of there.” Vinnie winced. Why did he run? It was stupid. Because if he’d just stayed and talked to Sonny, maybe Frank and Dan would never even have seen him. It wasn’t like him at all to be so irrational. Sure, the pain meds fogged some things, but this was simply not like him.

“Did he threaten you?” Frank asked.

“No. He didn’t even say a word.” Vinnie glanced at Sonny, who sat very still, his eyes flashing with that familiar fire.

“It just all does not add up,” Frank concluded.

“Why does it have to?” Sonny asked suddenly.

“Because,” Frank replied, “For three months nothing is what it has seemed.”

“Well that doesn’t seem fair for you to say to him,” Sonny said. “Unless Vinnie was doing his job badly or something?”

“No. He was fine. But he was still lying to me.”

“Oh, so it’s personal.” Sonny sat back, clasping his hands. “Why would his personal life be any of your business anyway?”

“No, it is not personal. It is about the job. It is about being honest and upfront with your field supervisor. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Upfront, huh? You’re right, I don’t understand. How upfront does he have to be? Does he have to tell you everything? When he brushes his teeth or takes a piss? Does this include telling you his every thought? If he’s had a nightmare about the boogeyman or decided to call an old friend? What does that have to do with his work? When is that any of your business?”

“If the old friend he’s calling is Sonny Steelgrave, then it has everything to do with his work.”

“No, Mr. Frank McPike. It doesn’t. You just have it in for me. That’s all there is to it.”

“Why does everything have to be about you anyway, Steelgrave?” Frank’s voice rose.

“Because we wouldn’t be here right now having this discussion if I were anyone else.”

“Maybe,” Frank admitted.

“So if this is about me, then make it about me. And get off his back.”

Frank held out his hands. “What do you want me to say, sport? That everything’s rosy and sweet and you can just go on doing whatever it is you want to do, damn the consequences?”

“I want to know what any of this has to do with Vinnie!” Sonny said angrily. “Don’t you even know your own man? Why are you doing this to him? What do you want from him? He didn’t do anything! And if he was going to be tempted by me or my organization to change or be someone you can no longer admire, well, he got out before anything like that could happen.”

Frank glowered.

Sonny stood up. He was tense, but not yet to the level of rage. He leaned over the table and he looked Frank right in the eyes. “If you want to go after me, you go after me. But you fucking leave him out of it!”

Frank put his glasses back on and stood up. “You ask what this has to do with Vince? He’s a Federal agent. He’s undercover. And he’s having underground contact with you. He’s not being forthcoming. He’s not being aboveboard. None of this is aboveboard. So he, sport, is involved!”

“What in the hell do you think he is having contact with me for? To deceive you? What do you think he’s doing, taking payoffs, bribes, favors? Do you honestly think Vincent Terranova, this man sitting right here, is undermining your organization? Do you think he wants to see you fall? Do you really think any of these things about him? I ask you again, do you even know him?”

Frank sat down again and leaned back. “I know what you’re capable of. And if he’s around you, I don’t know what you might use him to do for you.”

Vinnie listened to all of this without moving, without looking up.

“Yeah, you would think that. And you’re right, I’m capable of a lot of things. But a few phone calls and one hospital visit….what do you think we were planning? To take over the world?” Sonny’s mouth was twisted. Vinnie felt the heat coming off him, but he still didn’t move.

The two men glowered at one another, neither one wavering. Finally Frank looked away and straight at Vinnie.

“Vince,” he said, voice deadly calm. “Ultimately you are the one to choose.”

Vinnie looked up. “What?”

“Either him, or your career. You choose one. You don’t get both.”

For Vinnie, this seemed to come out of the blue. All he could feel was complete appall.

“How dare you!” Sonny yelled.

Vinnie stood up. He walked slowly to the door. He turned the knob. It was locked. He turned to Frank and said, “Let me out. Now.”

“We’re not done here,” Frank said.

“Well, I’m done here,” Vinnie said quietly. He felt Sonny staring at him. He couldn’t look at him right then. He stared at Frank. “I’m not some prize, Frank. I’m not easily threatened. Maybe you forgot, but I already quit the Steelgrave business. So now I guess I have to quit this business, too.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m talking about being aboveboard,” Frank insisted.

Vinnie took a step away from the door. “Frank, I’m not working for Sonny anymore. I don’t work for him. Don’t you get that?”

“Having contact with a person like him who knows your full OCB status is not acceptable.”

“Oh, okay,” Vinnie said, walking back to the table. “So Sonny is right then? I don’t get to see who I want, when I want, when I’m off? My thoughts aren’t my own? My ass belongs to the OCB 24/7? I don’t get a personal life? When did those rules come into play? I don’t remember them in training class.”

“This is not about your personal life,” Frank explained. “This is about a professional job you did, and a professional contact you made.”

“No, Frank, it’s not.”

Sonny murmured under his breath, “He can’t see it, Vinnie. He can’t see that this is a separate issue. That it has nothing to do with any of this crap we’re talking about right now. He sees us as a problem. He doesn’t know that what happened with us isn’t part of the job, it’s in spite of the job.”

Finally, Dan spoke up. “He knows. He just doesn’t believe it. It is improbable. You must admit.”

“Yeah,” Sonny said, throwing his hands up. “It looks fishy to me, too. Christ!”

Frank clasped his hands together and gazed at the Heavens as if praying for divine deliverance. Then he looked at Vinnie. “Vince. It’s Sonny Steelgrave. Of all people.” He shook his head. “That’s the problem!”

“It’s not like I planned this,” Vinnie said. “And why are we still even talking about it? You said I had to choose. I chose already. I quit Steelgrave. Now I quit the OCB and you. There. How’s that?”

Frank stood up again, shuffling his papers. “This is utter madness.”

“I agree,” Vinnie said. “Now will you unlock this door?”

Without warning, Sonny got up and walked over to him. “Vinnie, you can’t give up your career.”

“Watch me.”

Sonny turned to Frank then. Softly, he said, “You bastard. Are you trying to make him hate me, too?”

“It’s his choice,” Frank said.

Sonny looked completely taken aback. Vinnie saw him go from enraged and ruthless to uncomfortable and deflated. He suddenly looked like a trapped animal. “You take this away from him because of me, and every time he looks at me he’ll wonder. He’ll hate me. So thanks for nothing, Mr. McPike!”

Vinnie was staring at Sonny in disbelief. Sonny never ceased to surprise him.

No one said a word for a moment.

Sonny walked over to the table and put his palms flat on the surface. He looked at Frank straight on. “Don’t do this. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s a good man. Don’t punish him because of me.”

“I’m protecting him,” Frank replied, voice low.

“From what? Me?” Sonny gave a little sigh and shook his head. He looked over at Vinnie, then back at Frank. Then he backed up and sat down. He said, “What do I have to do?”

Frank’s eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Vinnie walked over to Sonny, who was still staring at Frank. “There has to be something,” Sonny said. “Leave. Change my name. What?”

Vinnie touched him on the shoulder and said, “Stop.”

Sonny looked up at him and his eyes were pained. “Vinnie….” He used the voice he had used that night when Vinnie was alone with him.

Vinnie said, “I don’t require you to do anything.”

“Don’t throw away your whole life on one night, Vinnie.”

“It wasn’t one night. Just because we didn’t sleep together all the rest of the time….”

“Do you guys want to be alone?” Frank interrupted. “Because I think we’re done here.”

Vinnie turned on him. “Shut up, Frank. Just shut up!”

Dan muttered under his breath, “Must’ve been some night.”

“Yeah,” Vinnie said. “And I ran. I’m such a brave, good person. That’s a laugh. I run from him. I run from the case. I go out on another case. I get myself shot. And here I am again hiding. Running. Whatever. I fucked it all up. Everything.” He turned and moved over to the corner of the room. Then he just stood with his arms crossed and leaned against the wall. The rest of them were looking at him strangely, but he didn’t care. “Are you gonna let me out, Frank?”

Sonny got up and went over to him. He started to reach out but Vinnie flinched. So he just leaned against the wall next to him and did nothing.

Nobody said anything for a long time and the silence became uncomfortable.

Finally, Sonny said, “Are you guys gonna just sit there and let him think that what he just said is true?”

Frank got up then and unlocked the door. When he opened it, echoing noises from the precinct hallway came in. Vinnie started to move, but Sonny touched him on the arm holding him back. “Please wait.”

Sonny moved to Frank. He asked, almost like a little boy, “What do I do?”

Frank started to turn away.

Sonny reached out. “I mean it! Do I have to turn? Do I have to become an informant? What?”

Vinnie started forward. “No!”

Frank closed the door and turned back to Sonny. “Now that’s an interesting question.”

And Vinnie said again, louder, “No!” What was Sonny saying? He’d killed men for less than this. Honor was too important to Sonny.

Sonny turned to him with a kind of cold smile. “Well, Vinnie, if you can throw it all away for one night, then so can I.”

Dan leaned forward and said, “Frank, don’t you think they’ve proven their loyalty already?”

Vinnie looked over at Dan. “What did you say?”

“It is rather sickeningly intense,” Frank replied as if Vinnie hadn’t spoken. But he was nodding.

“Let them go already. And fuck, let Vinnie keep his job. You know he’s the best agent you’ve seen in a long time. You even told me that.” Dan winked at Vinnie.

Vinnie felt his jaw drop. “Wait. Were you guys just playing us?”

Frank looked a little sheepish. After a moment, he turned toward Vinnie. His voice had completely changed. It was gentle. “You know getting shot was not your fault, Vince. Don’t you?”

“I… I….”

Frank shook his head. “You do your job and keep it professional and I’ll have no quarrel with you, but you keep your private life private. You are on very dangerous ground. Do you understand? If it interferes at all, I’ll be on you so fast you’re gonna wish you were never born.”

Vinnie let out a long breath.

Sonny said, “Why do you always talk to him like that?”

Frank ignored Sonny and said to Dan, “I can’t believe I’m passing up an opportunity to have Sonny Steelgrave on my desk as an informant. That’s like saying no to chocolate. I must be insane.”

Dan laughed.

Sonny frowned.

Vinnie was still in shock and thought he could not possibly have heard the words that just came out of Frank McPike’s mouth. Finally, he turned to Sonny. “What just happened?”

“Your boss here is a shrewd psychological manipulator. I would almost go as far as to say this was a test.”

Frank made a face at Sonny.

Sonny moved closer to him. He said, “Can I just ask you not to yell at him so much?”

“You trying to tell me how to do my job?”

“No, I just think Vinnie deserves to be treated decent.”

Dan stood up then, slowly. “I’m going home. I’m not gonna keep watching you two fight over Vinnie. It’s making my head ache. Frank, can you give me a lift?”

Frank sighed heavily. “Sure. All right. All right.” Frank looked at Vinnie. “What about you two?”

“I think we’re gonna find our own ride,” Sonny said testily.

Vinnie nodded in agreement, still in shock. It was over? It couldn’t have been that easy.

Frank said to Sonny, “He’s on extended sick leave right now. Just…. take care of him.”

“Huh,” Sonny replied as if he’d just seen something odd. “I think I saw a glimmer of a heart.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Coming from you, that’s not saying much.”

 

When the four of them walked out of the building in their coats and scarves, it was snowing even harder. Frank and Dan went to their car. Vinnie and Sonny waited for their cab.

Sonny looked up at the sky as snow powdered his face and hair. He said, “How long is your sick leave?”

“I can’t even think of going out into the field again with this shoulder for another six weeks at least.”

“What do you say to Christmas in the Bahamas?”

“I say my mother will cry her eyes out if I’m not coming home for the family dinner, but let her.”

“We’ll send her flowers and a big card,” Sonny said, shaking snow from his hair.

Vinnie smiled and for the first time since that night he’d run from Sonny’s world, he started to believe that maybe, just maybe this could have a happy ending. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work by Natasha Solten, you may also enjoy her m/m romances on Kindle under her non-fanfic name: Wendy Rathbone. Look for "The Foundling," "The Secret Sharer" and the soon to be released "None Can Hold the Dark" (due in fall 2013.) She also has an sf novel out, and a collection of poetry.


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